When one of them called 'Help, I can't swim!' and the other spoiled the ending of his joke by providing too soon `Because you're not in the water', Greer began to think about the pool.
He, the Senhor, had been enthusiastic that the boys learn to swim, she thought, and if in his several days' absence she could teach them at least to keep afloat, achieve a few strokes, how pleased he would be. So pleased he might even forget that 'discussion'. In her enthusiasm she completely forgot the Senhor's 'Will you instruct these children later?' His dutiful 'That is, of course, after I speak with the grandparents.'
She cut short the boys' garden walk, at the same time cutting short their grumbles at being delivered to Jim before they considered they should be by telling them what she planned when lessons were over. Not such laggards today, not with swimming in view, they went into class, and Greer sought out Ayah to tell her to have their trunks ready.
Promptly at noon they descended upon her, and in five
minutes were splashing in the water. Greer, who had put on her own swimming things, let them play for a while, then began to instruct them.
There was little to instruct, she smiled to herself, these small boys were at the age when swimming comes as instinctively as to a little dog. Also the weather was conducive, the warm water, the pleasant surroundings. By the first lesson they could both hold themselves up.
They had another lesson in the afternoon. Greer had decided against it, not wishing to diminish their enthusiasm by making haste too quickly, but Subhas and Chandra insisted.
`Please, Mis winthrop.' They always ran the two words together. Then 'Please, memsahib.' Finally . . . and how could she resist? . . . 'Please, Gr-eer.' They said Greer beautifully, rolling both R's.
`Oh, all right, you ragamuffins.'
Greer had dinner that night with the doctor again.
`Soon,' he said, 'we'll be able to have Holly join us. She's coming along wonderfully. But for a while I want her to have early nights. I want her to go right back to the natural way of living, and nature intended us to sleep when it was dark.' He waved an arm towards the night outside the french windows leading to the terrace. Indian night — positive, intense, mango-scented.
Did Vasco say anything to you?' he asked.
`Say anything to me?' Greer looked up a little alarmed. What did Terry mean? Did he know, too, about that 'discussion' that still hung over her?
`About what I would like,' said Terry Holliday. 'I mean what I would like to try out. No, I can see you don't know. Not yet. Skip it.'
The dish was beriani, Muslim in tradition, and a triumph of meat, rice, spices, ginger and coriander.
Afterwards Terry did not suggest sitting on the patio, and Greer was glad of that. Somehow the positiveness, the intenseness of the night disturbed her, made her restless, unsure of herself.
`The boys have worn me out,' she murmured. 'I'll go to bed.'
But before she did so, she sat at her window breathing the spicy air, for always, she had found by now, was there spiciness in the Indian air, a tang of dried herbs, smoke, fruit, jasmine petals. And mango flowers. That tantalizing drift now was the flower of the mango. Indian symbol of love.
The next day both boys actually crossed the width of the pool. Like everything they did, they touched the tiled rim simultaneously. For two children who were unrelated it was almost uncanny how they did everything the same. As though, Greer said to herself, they were identical twins.
But they were not. One was the child of India. One the son of Yaqub and Lalil Gupta.
Which? That was what she was here to discover. So far she had made no headway.
But she had made headway with their swimming. There would be no need any longer for watchful eyes whenever they were playing with their boats at the pool. Even if a boat foundered, its skipper would run no peril. He might only have a few dog-paddles, but that at least could keep him alive. And the way they were going they would soon have proper strokes instead of the dog-paddle. Even the Australian crawl the Senhor had spoken of.
`But what is this?'
Even as she thought of Senhor Martinez, Senhor Martinez spoke. He had come out of the house, and had Greer taken notice of his casual white suit with the collar of the white shirt left open, the white sandals, she might not have looked so apprehensively at him as she did. She might have reasoned that he had returned some time ago to be dressed in relaxed clothes like this, therefore presumably not so disapproving as he seemed.
But Greer did not think. She was suddenly remembering . . . too late . . . his injunctions of 'After I speak with the grandparents' as regarded pool activities and the boys. She was realizing she had taken something on her own shoulders, and now this, as well as the reckoning she had been promised, faced her.
Looking at her and wearing, had she dared to look back, a secret amused smile, the Senhor called, 'Very well, little fishes, that's enough for a day.'
`But, Uncle Vasco, we want to show you—'
`But, sahib, watch.'
`Tomorrow. Enough now, I say. Out, Chandra! Out, Subhas !' He stood while the boys obeyed. `Senhorita Greer, you know now where to find my study. Please to attend there in ten minutes.'
`Yes, senhor,' Greer said.
She saw to it that she wasn't late. But she also . . . perversely . . . saw to it that she was not one moment early. Whether he read the determined challenge in her attitude, she did not know. When she knocked on the door he called, 'Enter', and waved her to the seat opposite at the desk, but did not look up from his papers.
He left her stewing there for several minutes, and stewing it was, for the longer Greer waited the less challenge she found in herself. After all, she thought bleakly, all the cards are stacked on his side. I did creep out of the house that night I visited Arlene, and I was expected to wait for permission until I started the swimming instruction.
His voice cut in on her guilt, and it was so amused that Greer actually jumped in her chair.
`There, Senhorita Greer,' he said, 'is it as bad as all that, that you must trip over your bottom lip?' He paused, using the pause to take out one of his cheroots. 'Right?' he asked of his last phrase, the one with the bottom lip.
`Yes, senhor,' she said.
`You were naughty over the swimming lessons, yes,' he said benevolently, and the word 'naughty' made her look up incredulously at him. This formal Portuguese using such a childish admonishment!
`Ah,' he said, reading her, 'but you are a child, and that is why—'
`What, senhor?'
`I was so angry with you returning that night in a cab. Were you an experienced woman it would have been different,' he shrugged.
`No harm came,' she dared.
`It could have.' Now his banter was gone and he was looking with almost paternal sternness at her. 'But I will speak of the swim lessons first,' he said. 'You should have waited for permission, of course, but how can I be annoyed when you have already achieved so much?'
`It was not !, senhor, it was the boys. They're little naturals.'
`Perhaps, but you still began the process. And such an essential accomplishment, as I told the grandparents of one of them.'
`Oh, yes, senhor, please tell me about that.'
`They were reluctant at first, and you must see their point, Senhorita Greer, as I saw it. They had an obsession
. right? ... against all water. But they are intelligent, as the parents of Yaqub would have to be intelligent. They agreed that it was very important. When I returned just now to find you had decided that point yourself it was rather an anti-climax for me. Right?'
`Yes. I'm sorry.'
`You mean you are sorry for my feeling of inadequacy but not that you had already ... disobediently ... taught the boys?'
`Yes, I expect that is what I mean,' confessed Greer. She was looking down at the desk, but something prompted her to glance up, and to her surprise he was smiling. Smiling across at her.
`All is well,' he nodded. 'The boys can look after themselves in
the water. On behalf of the grandparents of one of them, I thank you, Senhorita Greer, even if ... oh, yes, I must slip in an admonishment . . . you acted on your own behalf.'
Greer, braver because of his praise, slipped in for herself, 'Which is strictly forbidden.'
That took away his smiling tolerance. He said, not pleased now, 'But there are no alleviating circumstances for your city jaunt that other night, are there?'
City jaunt . . . so that's what he thought of it! Well, let him. Far better for him to think she had been out seeing Bombay than visiting the wife of the man who had defrauded him, the man who was her uncle.
`How – how did you know I was—' she began.
`Sightseeing? The driver had told me where he had picked you up, and it was between Naoroji and Carnac Roads, so at once I knew. Everyone who comes to Bombay is anxious to visit Crawford Market. Had you waited I would have taken you myself, and by day when it is much more colourful.'
She sat silent. She had not known where she was. She was not going to tell him this, though. She would let him think what he was thinking now, and accept his censure.
It was not to be as bad as she anticipated, however. He smoked for a while, then conceded, 'Undoubtedly it has been dull.'
senhor?'
`Your existence here. Dull, Senhorita Greer. Merely the children to occupy you, and then only at certain hours. A new city at your feet but no way to see it. Oh, yes, child, I understand. But had you come to me and said, "Senhor, I am bored, here is a foreign place and all I see are mango trees" I would have arranged something for you.'
`I love the mango trees,' she said. Then, unconsciously, unconscious of what he must think of her, she quoted :
`Sandals of sward, veils of the loom Of mango (symbolled love) in bloom.'
She stopped abruptly, her cheeks flushed. She felt ridiculous.
He did not speak for quite a while, then when he did it was not to comment on the poem but to repeat... and kindly . . . that he understood her position.
`A young person yearns to experience a new place. Believe me, Senhorita Greer, I intended you to. But not by yourself at night. Bombay is, as I have said, no better, no worse, than all cities, but young ladies do not venture alone after dusk. It is very fortunate that you chose a reliable cab as you did. I must praise you at least for that.'
`Thank you.' Eyes down again.
`Tell me' ... he paused to exhale ... 'did the little excursion come up to your expectations? What did you see?'
Greer had a temptation to tell him that she had seen Victoria Railway Station three times, but knew that would be asking for further interrogation.
`Nothing really, senhor,' she blurted, 'not knowing what I was seeing.'
`There,' he said triumphantly, 'you were foolish, and you acted foolishly, but now your foolishness is forgiven. Not only forgiven, but you are assured of a proper tour of Bombay. Most certainly do I intend you to see it. Not only the city proper, but Bombay's countryside. You will like to visit the Aarey Milk Colony, which is set in delightful parkland. Then there are the Hanging Gardens in Nehru Park. Also, now that the little boys are fishes in water we will take them to the sandy beach of Juhu.' He was looking at her rather inquiringly. Senhor Martinez inquiring? But Senhor Martinez only ordered!
There was a slight silence, which he broke a little stiffly, no inquiry now, 'These, of course, are all only proposals.' Evidently he was annoyed at her lack of enthusiasm. She was enthusiastic. She did want to see this corner of India. If only, she thought, if only I didn't have that worry hanging over me. The worry of Arlene.
`It will be wonderful, senhor,' she said quickly, and he smiled that rare boyish smile of his that made him look so
different.
She fidgeted, wondering what next to say, then, feeling that the interview must be at a close, went to rise.
`Un moment, Senhorita Greer. There is something else.' His voice was serious but not ominous, she decided She sat back again to listen.
`Doctor Holliday has been talking with me,' he began.
`Holly—' she said urgently.
`No. No! Why do you always become alarmed over your sister?'
`Because she has always been a matter for alarm.' `That,' said the Senhor, 'was the topic of conversation.'
`What, Senhor Martinez?'
The doctor has come forward with a rather surprising view.'
`Yes?'
—But Greer was not to hear the view. There was the sound of sudden splashing in the pool, Ayah's voice raised in righteous indignation, running steps.
Both she and the Portuguese were in the passage together in time to see the little brown bottoms of Chandra and Subhas, who had evidently escaped from supervision to the swimming pool again, being bustled back to the bathroom. Ayah, distinctly wet, looked ready to use a brush on the receding rears, and when the Senhor said, 'And I hope she does,' Greer laughingly concurred.
`It is no use, senhorita,' he said ruefully, 'I cannot say what I must say here. It is a sober subject. It entails serious discussion.' For a moment he stood tapping the tips of the slim olive fingers together. `Ah, yes,' he said at length. He looked down at her. 'You have heard of the island of Elephanta?'
`Only heard of it, senhor. I know it was a Hindu shrine some thousand years ago and that it's quite close to Bombay.'
`Tomorrow we will see it. And there on Elephanta,
away from the wrangles of small imps, we can speak. We will leave in the morning, Senhorita Greer. There is a little public launch, but I will order my own boat to stand by. You yourself must be ready around ten.'
`The children's swimming lessons?' she demurred. `They already swim,' he pointed out. 'They now only need supervision and there is plenty of that.'
`Holly?'
`She, too, has supervision.' His eyes, the same as they always were when he spoke of her sister, were gentle. Yes, Greer thought, Holly has supervision.
The observing I am paid to do,' she said next. – Why was she persisting like this?
He became impatient now.
`At ten in the morning, senhorita,' he said sharply. `Also I am not "discussing" now, that will come later, on Elephanta. I am "ordering".'
`And you are very good at ordering, aren't you?' Only her annoyance gave Greer the courage to fling that.
A little appalled at herself, she turned and went to her room.
When she called in on Holly some time later, Greer was surprised to see Jim Matson sitting on the garden side of her windowsill talking to her.
`I thought you'd be teaching your other children on Malabar Hill,' Greer said, finding a chair.
`Actually I've been waiting for you to come down,' the boys' tutor grinned. 'I wanted to tell you that I'll take over swimming lessons tomorrow while you go out with the Senhor.'
But how did you know I was to go with Senhor Martinez tomorrow?'
`News spreads quickly here,' Jim grinned again. `Already I've had news of—' He glanced at Holly. But no, it's not for me to say, even though I'm hoping . ..' He shut his lips firmly, then opened them once more to add, `It won't be any load stopping over to give the kids a swimming hint or two, I've been longing to try out that
pool and here's a legitimate excuse.'
`Thank you.' Greer did not know what else to say; she had been rather surprised at the sight of Jim perched on Holly's windowsill, she only hoped this would not be another thing disapproved of by the Portuguese. Nor by Terry Holliday, either, who now was entering the sickroom and giving looks which said unmistakably that he wanted some time with his patient.
`Well,' accepted Jim, 'up to Malabar Hill.' He jumped down from his perch, gave the girls a wave each and disappeared to the back entrance where he always parked his small car.
Greer spent the rest of the afternoon going through Holly's clothes, adding a touch here and there, a bow, a tie, a different collar, for Holly would be up quite soon, she judged, and though these frocks were simple they should be suitable for wear in the house.<
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She gave orders that she would dine with her sister, and since Holly herself was under doctor's orders that lights were to be out soon after the evening meal, she was back in her room again by nine o'clock. It wouldn't do her any harm to have an early night as well, she told herself, indeed it might prepare her for whatever it was that was to be discussed tomorrow.
She bathed, brushed her shoulder-length hair, then went and sat at the window to feast on the lights again, those charmingly irregular lights that became a rainbow mosaic, a kaleidoscope in greens, purples, yellows and crimsons.
There was a little crimson glow in the garden beneath her. She watched it wonderingly as it moved slowly among the trees and shrubs. A firefly? Then she smiled. The glow of a cigarette, of course. Or — a cheroot? She leaned forward slightly and breathed deeply. As well as the spice of the Indian night she caught the aroma of a cigar. The Senhor. The Senhor walking round his palacio, for the place was little short of a palace.
The red glow was gone now, he had moved to another
section of the garden. But still he was down there, somewhere beneath the mango trees, that Indian symbol of love, and all at once Greer was feeling his presence so — so tangibly she almost felt if she reached out she would touch him.
Foolish, she tried to smile, she was a storey above the garden. But still ... but still...
It was the Indian night. It was too positive, too intense. Too — disturbing. I must go to bed, go to sleep, Greer determined, be ready and calm and collected for tomorrow.
She was. In a cool cotton-knit dress she had made herself in Sydney, sensible sandals, and, to please the Portuguese as well as to be sensible on her head as well as her feet, the cork topee. The topee had the traditional lining of deep green, and as the cotton knit was almost an identical green she felt she would not disgrace his private boat, which would be sure to be imposing, like the rest of his possessions.
But when they reached the private jetty it was not on the white and tangerine yacht the Senhor bowed her but a smaller runabout.
The Pool of Pink Lilies Page 10