Fields of Gold

by Fiona McIntosh

  ‘I’m a miner, Ned. It’s time I found work. You should take Walker up on his offer to find some work there.’

  ‘I’m thinking about it.’

  ‘Don’t think, act. KGF is booming and Henry assures me a man can live a grand life out there. It’s good wages – he even thinks something can be wangled to make me a covenanted man and that means I’ll be given accommodation.’

  ‘Lucky you.’

  ‘I need some after my run.’

  Ned looked at Jack quizzically.

  ‘I’ll tell you more one day. Right now Henry’s yawning and I think as he’s my host I should let him get his sleep. He’s off in a day or two to Ooticamund, or Ooty as they call it. It’s a long trip and poor old Henry needs his rest.’

  ‘Perhaps we can meet again?’

  ‘Definitely. We’re at the Bangalore Club. It’s not far from here. Why don’t you meet me there on Friday and I’ll show you around Bangalore? I’ve got my bearings now and it’s a most attractive city. If not for the heat, you could almost swear it was part of London. Amazing parks and wide streets.’

  ‘I’ve seen nothing but the inside of a rickshaw.’

  Jack grinned. ‘I’ll take you for a ride in a jatka.’

  ‘What?’

  ‘Horse-drawn cart. Much faster. Even less comfy!’

  They both smiled and shook hands. ‘I’ll see you Friday, then,’ Ned said.

  Dr Walker and Henry Berry arrived. ‘Come on, young Ned,’ Walker said. ‘Mrs Walker will be cranky with me if I don’t get you home in time for her to wish you goodnight. She hasn’t got anyone to fuss over with our Iris gone. I don’t count, you see.’

  Henry laughed. ‘It was a pleasure to meet you both. Goodnight, Ned. I’m glad you two hit it off. Jack will have some company while I’m gone.’

  ‘I’ve arranged to see Ned again on Friday.’

  ‘Excellent. That suits me because I’ll be out all day with Mrs Walker. Thank you, that works out well. By the way, we’re trying to keep him here, Bryant, so show him the best side of Bangalore.’

  Jack tapped his nose conspiratorially and the four of them laughed, Ned especially, because for him suddenly the world was righting itself.

  Life is good, he told himself later that night, after all Flora Walker’s fussing was done and he found himself lying beneath a billowing mosquito net in a large, four-poster bed. Its four legs were placed in tubs of water to keep the insects away and the bedroom shutters had been thrown open to let in a cooling night breeze. And on its breath it carried the delightful scent of a flower that Flora had explained was called Queen of the Night.

  Its fragrance brought to mind the night of his mother’s suicide, but Ned decided firmly that nothing was going to ruin his hopeful mood.

  21

  ‘Has Harold told you about the phone call he took this morning, Ned?’ Flora asked.

  ‘Thank you, Sabu,’ Ned said, as the mali refreshed his china cup with steaming hot tea. They were sitting on the back porch overlooking the garden, where Flora liked to take breakfast. ‘No, he hasn’t said anything.’

  ‘Oh, that man!’ she said, her eyes widening with exasperation. ‘Sabu, has the master gone out?’

  ‘Just briefly, madam.’

  She looked back at Ned apologetically. ‘I suppose you’ve noticed that he likes to take a morning stroll.’ They both heard the main door bang behind them. ‘Ah, here he is, back already.’

  Walker arrived, muttering about how Bangalore’s traffic was on the rise. ‘A man can hardly cross the road for fear of being run down by a jatka and I thought the rickshaws were bad enough. I counted no less than ten motor vehicles on the road this morning too,’ he grumbled. ‘Any tea going, Sabu?’

  ‘Yes, sir,’ Sabu said and rushed off, no doubt to make another fresh pot.

  ‘Morning, Ned,’ Harold said.

  ‘Hello, sir, and before you ask, I slept like a baby. I don’t think I’ve slept in years as well as I have the last three nights.’

  ‘It’s the cool Bangalore air, son. Another reason to stay. And I insist you stop calling me sir. My staff do that.’

  Ned smiled his thanks.

  ‘Harold, tell him about that telephone call,’ Flora scolded gently.

  ‘I was going to, Mother.’

  ‘Well, hurry up, men,’ she said.

  Ned was getting used to Flora’s singsong way of speaking and how she added ‘pah’ or ‘men’, on the end of her sentences that were meant to berate.

  Harold addressed Ned with a sigh. ‘I’m not sure whether to say it’s fortunate that we have one of these newfangled telephone things or whether to complain that I am suddenly so contactable. Either way, we took a call this morning and it was about you.’

  Ned put his cup down. ‘Was it Dr Grenfell? Bell’s all right, isn’t she?’

  ‘Absolutely fine, as far as I know, son. No, this wasn’t Grenfell. It was a doctor though. His name is Brent.’

  ‘Dr Brent?’ Ned felt suddenly sickened. ‘From Rangoon?’

  ‘That’s the one,’ Walker said, looking pleased. ‘He sounded so glad to have hunted you down. He told me he’d been trying to follow your tracks for a few months now.’

  ‘Ned, dear. You look pale suddenly,’ Flora said, frowning.

  Ned’s new sense of wellbeing instantly evaporated. He had broken into a sweat and his throat had seemed to close.

  ‘Ned?’ Flora repeated, putting her own cup down. ‘Are you all right, son?’

  He gathered his wits. ‘Yes, er, yes, I’m sorry,’ he stammered. ‘I think just the mention of Brent brought a lot of bad memories flooding back.’

  ‘Oh, of course it did,’ Flora said, glaring at her husband. ‘We’re so sorry. How insensitive of us.’

  ‘It’s not your fault, Mrs Walker.’

  ‘It is. And, Ned, just call me Flora. We don’t need to be formal.’

  He thought he murmured a thank you but his mind was in chaos. ‘What else did Dr Brent say?’ he asked, his tone as casual as he could make it.

  ‘Well, just that he’s going to be in Bangalore and is looking forward to seeing you. He has something for you, apparently. Perhaps he’s brought your belongings from the hotel in Rangoon?’

  Ned recalled the story he’d given the Walkers that followed the same gilded truth he’d given the Grenfells. He couldn’t change his story now. ‘I suppose it could be,’ he said miserably. ‘Do I have to see him?’

  Walker looked astonished. ‘But don’t you want to? Brent sounded so pleased that you are both well.’

  A new thought struck Ned. ‘Has he seen the Grenfells?’

  ‘Yes. Expressed his delight at seeing Bella looking so bonny.’

  An ice-cold clamp seemed to fit itself snugly around Ned’s innards. ‘What did he say?’

  ‘Oh, just that he’s in Bangalore.’

  ‘He’s here?’

  ‘I’ve told him to come to the house. What’s wrong, Ned?’

  ‘Nothing,’ he said quickly. ‘I’m just… just a bit churned up.’ He took a steadying breath. ‘What time is he expected?’

  ‘Oh, not until later. Probably early evening. I suggested any time around six should catch you. I know you were planning to go out with that Bryant fellow today, weren’t you?’

  Ned nodded dumbly.

  ‘It’s just that I can’t promise we’ll be back in time to meet him, unfortunately.’

  Ned stared at the Walkers now.

  ‘Remember, we’re going to KGF today and it’s a long journey, there and back,’ Flora said, concerned.

  He snapped himself out of his shock. ‘Of course. No, you go ahead. I’ll see Dr Brent, although I can’t really see him for long. Jack asked me for dinner at the Bangalore Club,’ he lied.

  ‘Well, well,’ Walker said, clearly impressed. ‘You’ll enjoy it, Ned. By all means offer Brent a sherry and then see him on his way.’

  ‘Of course. Well, if you’ll both excuse me, I’d better get ready for today’s sightsee
ing,’ he said, feigning a brightness he certainly wasn’t feeling. ‘I’ll be down to see you off.’

  Upstairs in his spacious room Ned fought to steady his careening thoughts. Brent had hunted them down. But why? What could possibly have dragged him from Rangoon to India?

  Ned felt very alone, once again. He had no ally this time. As slight and young as Robbie was, he’d been a partner in their escape and had masterminded the whole event. Now, though he was surrounded by the generosity of the Walkers, and Bella by the vast affections of the Grenfells, they were still alone.

  Ned didn’t feel he could tell either of the doctors the truth of their escape. He should have given them the ugly details from the outset but it was too late now.

  ‘So be it,’ Ned thought, but although the words sounded confident as he murmured them, they brought no peace. He rinsed his face, then dried it on a soft pale towel in an effort to calm himself and his suddenly hot cheeks. He had no one to share these fears with. No friend to confide in.

  Just then he heard a familiar voice asking for him downstairs. He did have an ally. Perhaps Jack Bryant would have an idea of how to approach this.

  He grabbed his jacket and hurried down the stairs, once again schooling his features to hide his internal anxiety.

  ‘Jack! You’re early.’

  ‘It’s going to be a hot one,’ Jack said from the reception area where Sabu stood alongside him, holding their guest’s topi. ‘I thought we’d get going?’

  ‘Fine with me,’ Ned said, shaking Jack’s hand. ‘Come and meet the Walkers. I’ll just say my goodbyes.’

  After the introductions, Ned explained that they were heading out early.

  ‘Take your helmet, Ned,’ Flora warned. ‘You have to get used to wearing it all day. How are you boys getting around?’

  ‘I’ve negotiated with a jatka-waller to be our guide,’ Jack confirmed.

  ‘No more than a couple of rupees, I hope, Bryant?’

  ‘No, sir. Five, in fact.’

  ‘Five? Robbery.’

  ‘He has a family, he told me,’ Jack said, genially defending himself.

  ‘We’ll be home after dark, son,’ Walker admitted.

  ‘I’ve already told the ayah you won’t need dinner. Nice of you to host Ned for a meal at the Bangalore Club, Mr Bryant,’ Flora said.

  Jack barely hesitated as he threw a glance Ned’s way. ‘I thought he’d like to see the place. Henry’s already signed him in for me.’

  ‘Excellent,’ Walker said. ‘Well, have fun. Don’t forget Dr Brent for six, Ned.’

  ‘I won’t, sir,’ he said, guiding Jack back into the dark reception hall, with Flora’s bowls of flowers everywhere, and the waiting Sabu.

  Once they were uncomfortably balanced in the back of the jatka that lurched forward precariously, Jack finally turned to Ned. ‘Well, what was that all about?’

  For some reason Ned couldn’t explain, he sensed his secrets were safe with Jack. He found himself telling his new friend everything, and somehow by sharing his fears with Jack, they didn’t seem so bad.

  Jack listened intently, his face growing more serious and his expression darker as Ned’s story wore on. It only became animated when Ned’s voice stopped almost in synchrony with the jatka.

  ‘Cubbon Park, Master,’ the driver said over his shoulder.

  Jack didn’t move, just stared hard at Ned.

  ‘Say something,’ Ned said, instantly self-conscious, despite the general noise of the streets.

  ‘Let’s get out,’ Jack replied, easing from the jatka. ‘Can you wait here?’ he asked the driver. The man wobbled his head in the Indian way that said yes. ‘Let’s get some air,’ Jack said grimly.

  Ned followed him through the park’s gates and onto one of the pathways. Jack lit a cigarette and glanced over at Ned.

  ‘He’s got something in mind.’

  ‘Yes, well, I didn’t imagine he’d come here to ask me how I was. What do you think he means to do?’

  Jack shook his head and took another long drag on his cigarette. ‘I suspect he’s going to threaten you.’

  ‘Why? I’m out of his life.’

  ‘Not really. You’re out of his clutches, all right, but you can still do him damage from afar.’

  ‘I don’t want anything to do with him!’

  ‘Ah, but he doesn’t know that. He doesn’t know you haven’t begun telling people about his perverse ways. He has no idea whether authorities are already on their way to ask him some difficult questions.’

  ‘And so he’s coming to find out,’ Ned finished.

  ‘No, from what you tell me, I suspect he’ll want to take some action.’

  ‘Like what?’

  ‘At the very least I imagine he’ll threaten you.’

  ‘With what?’

  ‘Think, Sinclair! What’s the one thing you fear most? He already knows your weakness.’

  ‘Bell,’ Ned said, angrily.

  ‘Yes, Bella. She’s his trump card. He knows where she’s living and he’s already paid a visit to the family in Madras. Is that right?’

  Ned nodded.

  ‘Well, presumably he’s established that they know nothing of what occurred in Rangoon. Why didn’t you tell the truth about him?’

  ‘I had no proof. Robbie was dead. Brent’s extremely well respected in Rangoon. It would have been my word against his and frankly, Jack, I was just happy to be rid of him. I thought we’d left him behind for good.’

  ‘You’ll meet him, of course.’

  ‘I don’t want to even see his face —’

  ‘Ned, you have to meet enemies and stare them down. Find out what he wants. He could be coming to beg your silence. Buy it, even.’

  ‘I don’t want his money!’

  ‘I know that. But find out what his intentions are first. Then you can make your decisions. Either way, you have to front him … and be resolute.’

  ‘He makes me sick. When I think of Robbie —’

  ‘Don’t think of Robbie. Robbie’s dead. Think of your sister and just focus on getting him out of your life for good.’

  Ned sighed. ‘You’re right.’

  ‘I usually am.’

  ‘You’re much too sure of yourself, Bryant.’

  Jack laughed. ‘Come on, you’ve got all day to churn this over in your mind. You might as well enjoy yourself rather than moping.’

  Ned made his best attempt. ‘So, where are we? It’s lovely.’

  ‘This is Cubbon Park, named after one of the commissioners. Built by the British, for the British – a little slice of home, even in the colonies. You’ll see flowers, trees, shrubs, all reminiscent of the plants we know. It’s quite incredible. If you look across there, you can see all the way through to Holy Trinity Church. These two landmarks encase the cantonment in a way. That’s South Parade, and further on is Ulsore Lake, where many of the Brits here like to take picnics. Beyond that they’ve set up dairy farms, growing barley and wheat. Even some small vineyards.’

  ‘Really?’

  ‘Well,’ Jack said, pulling a wry expression. ‘I think we like our fresh milk, our bread, our beer, and even the officers like their wine too much to suffer any local produce. Do you fancy drinking goat’s milk or oxen’s?’

  Ned wrinkled his nose. ‘The park looks huge.’

  ‘A hundred or so acres, I’m assured.’ They said good morning to a pair of middle-aged women walking with a troupe of children. The entire party was dressed in pastels and the women carried umbrellas – a sure sign of status. ‘Just like Kew Gardens.’

  The two young men began to exchange stories of their lives, Ned learning that Jack was a miner and Jack hearing about Ned’s upbringing in Scotland.

  Ned stopped talking suddenly. ‘Great music,’ he commented.

  ‘I was leading you to the bandstand. This way.’ They turned onto a new path, shaded by huge old European-style trees. ‘I think they’re rehearsing. It’s the Royal Air Force. They’ll be playing on Saturday night. Look,
here’s the statue of Queen Victoria. Over there,’ he pointed, ‘is the memorial to King Edward VII.’

  ‘Ah,’ Ned said, smiling, as they emerged. ‘The bandstand.’

  Right enough the RAF big band was practising, belting out the latest foxtrot.

  ‘Do you dance, Jack?’

  ‘Never got much of a chance in Penzance, but yes, I can dance.’

  ‘I can teach you. This is called white jazz or a foxtrot.’

  ‘Why don’t we come here on Saturday night?’

  ‘I’m not dancing in public with you!’

  Jack burst out laughing. ‘Nor I with you! I was thinking we could meet some girls.’

  Now Ned’s eyes widened. ‘I’d like that.’

  ‘You see, plenty to look forward to. Come on. I’m going to take you to a place called Three Aces on South Parade where they serve great coffee. I’ve got a big day planned.’

  Over what Ned had to agree was a superb European-style coffee, served in silver crockery by dark men, once again in their starched white traditional dress with blood-red turbans and sashes, he returned his thoughts to Brent.

  ‘Jack, I was wondering if you could come by the Walkers’ house this evening?’

  ‘I figured you’d ask that.’

  ‘It is cowardly?’

  ‘It’s wise. But you should meet him alone. I’ll drop by a little later. You can use me as an excuse to get away. Six o’clock he’s coming?’

  ‘About then. What if you come by at six-twenty?’

  Jack drained his cup. ‘Done. Right, I’m going to show you the madness and colour and fun of Commercial Street now. Anything you want to buy is there.’

  ‘Anything?’

  Jack arched an eyebrow. ‘Well, well, Sinclair. Not so naïve after all, eh?’

  Ned found a grin, already feeling as though the Brent episode was no longer something to fret over but simply something to get past.

  22

  It felt strange to be in the house without the Walkers but at a quarter to six precisely, Sabu politely showed Ned onto the cool back verandah. He could see a gardener still toiling in the vegetable patch.

  ‘A drink, sir?’ Sabu asked. ‘Perhaps a gimlet?’