He stood, unsure what to do, but he left the front garden of his house and he walked … down the hill, in the direction of the main road of KGF that led him into Oorgaum.
Iris stood in her underwear before the mirror, laughing. Her mother stood behind her with a small pot.
‘I can’t believe you’re going to do this,’ she said.
‘My mother and grandmother did this for me,’ Flora replied. ‘It’s tradition. And I’ve been saving this beautiful powder from England that your father brought me for this very occasion. April Violets, Iris.’ She laughed. ‘I know that sounds like a contradiction but it’s the prettiest of perfumes and it suits you. How are you feeling?’
Iris smiled. ‘I’m fine.’
‘But I’ve heard you sickening.’
‘I promise you it’s just nerves.’
‘Rushing into this marriage has left you overwrought.’
Iris shrugged. ‘I just want to be sure there will be no more confrontations with Jack.’
‘That man has no right!’
‘Don’t, Mum. It’s the past.’
‘Let’s hope he’s got the message, then,’ Flora said.
‘Let’s begin the ritual,’ Iris said.
Her mother took a couple of steps back, pinched a generous amount of talcum powder from her pot and gently tossed it towards Iris so that it cascaded down her back, some of it fluttering and catching against her skin. She repeated the action, walking slowly around Iris until her whole body from her neck down was lightly dusted.
‘Now I feel like a loaf of bread,’ she said.
‘Well, you don’t smell like one. And your skin will be silky and fragrant for your husband tonight.’
Iris blushed. ‘You’re not going to have that conversation with me, are you?’
‘If you want me to.’
‘I think Ned and I can work it out.’
Her mother touched her cheek affectionately. ‘You’re such a beautiful child. You’ve made a very good decision in marrying Ned. He will never stop loving you, Iris, and that’s worth more than all the money or status in the world. If you have a man who cherishes you, you are rich.’
‘I know, Mum.’
Her mother smiled, gave her daughter a lingering look. Then she snapped out of her thoughts. ‘Right, now the perfume. Don’t tell your father but I ordered some to go with the talc. It cost a fortune, my girl!’ She watched her mother dig beneath some items in a top drawer of her dresser and pull out a tiny box. Inside was an even smaller bottle. Using the stopper, her mother dabbed the exquisite scent on her daughter’s pulse points.
‘There. You smell divine.’
‘Oh, it’s just beautiful, Mum. Thank you.’
‘And it’s yours,’ Flora said, pressing the tiny vial into Iris’s hand. ‘That’s your bridal perfume. We’ll have to find something else for your sisters.’
Iris kissed her mother. ‘Thank you for doing all this at such short notice.’
Flora hugged her. ‘We just want to see you happy.’
‘I am.’
‘It’s time for the dress.’
The next fifteen minutes was spent in near silence as Flora and Iris set to, doing up all the hooks and eyes of her tight-fitting pearl and crystal bodice that flared out into a princess-like frothy skirt. Iris groaned inwardly as the final hooks locked into place, feeling the satin cutting into her waist.
Flora was lost in a moment of admiration, flicking off invisible lint and stray threads. ‘Now, darling, you’re not due your period, are you?’
‘No, Mum,’ Iris said hurriedly.
Flora beamed. ‘Good, that solves a headache for tonight, although I’m looking forward to my grandchild just as soon as you can make one.’
Iris could only stare at her mother, lost for words. It didn’t seem to bother Flora, who stood back and admired her daughter, entirely preoccupied.
‘I’m going to need help with the veil. I’m too short.’
On cue there was a knock at the door. It was her two sisters. ‘We’re ready,’ Geraldine said. ‘And so are your two flowergirls.’
‘Oh, come in, come in. Let me see,’ Iris said and they all bustled in with squeals of delight as they saw the stunning bride. ‘But you all look as pretty as pictures. I’m glad those pale-pink dresses worked; they’re lovely.’
‘The flowers are downstairs,’ one of her tiny cousins remarked. ‘My bunch matches my halo.’
Everyone laughed. ‘Bouquet, darling,’ her aunt corrected but she permitted her niece to consider her circlet a halo.
In another house the males in the wedding party had been ready for hours.
‘Looking good, Rupe,’ Ned said.
‘Well, for someone with only one arm and a crutch, I reckon I’m a pretty ordinary-looking best man,’ he commented.
Ned admired Rupert hugely. He had decided to make the best of life and to use his dry humour to deflect his sadness. Ned often wondered whether he would have had the same courage. It seemed fitting that without Jack in his life – his first choice as best man – Rupert Walker had taken on that role.
‘Have you invited him?’ Rupert asked.
Ned didn’t need clarification. ‘No. But I fully expect he’ll turn up.’
‘He’s mad.’
‘Mad for your sister, yes. Which is why I suspect she wants to get the wedding over quickly. The sooner he accepts she’s mine, the sooner we can all get on with our lives.’
‘It’s a shame. You were such good friends.’
‘We were. And now we’re just as good at being enemies.’
‘Perhaps you’ll find a way to —’
Ned shook his head as he straightened his black bow tie.
‘Well, it’s not your problem any more. Come on. It’s time we got to the church. You’re going to have to practise taking the ring from me because …’
‘No need to explain,’ Ned said at the helpless look on Rupert’s face. ‘We’ll work it out.’
When Jack arrived at the Anglican church, he saw lots of familiar people in their Sunday best crowding in through the double doors. He doubted whether the speed of this wedding had allowed Bella sufficient time to get over her spite and return for the ceremony. That would hurt Ned, but not even his precious sister would get in the way of him marrying Iris and shutting Jack out for keeps.
He hung back in the open gardens of the rectory nearby, standing beneath a jackfruit tree. He’d convinced himself that until he saw Iris in her wedding dress, he couldn’t fully believe she was lost to him. He needed to see the bride for himself. Once he did, he had promised himself he would let her go for good.
The first wedding party arrived. It was Ned and the Walker brothers. Jack grimaced, stepped back further into the shadows. Ned was clearly bursting with anticipation and pride, accepting slaps on the back and handshakes as he entered the church. Jack should have been alongside his friend, helping him to celebrate his big day. No sister, no best friend. Ned had sacrificed a lot. But then, Ned had the ultimate prize – Iris – and everything else paled in her wake.
Next to arrive was Flora and her two sisters, the bridesmaids hot on their heels, in one of the mine manager’s cars. The Walker girls, two small flowergirls, and an even smaller pageboy in shorts and a dinky bow tie, frothed and bubbled from the car but waited outside the church, smoothing down their dresses, and shooshing the little ones as they clutched their tiny hands.
Jack had stepped inside the reception hall for a moment on his way. It was wildly decorated with pink and silver streamers, with a few horseshoes – for luck, presumably – painted and stuck up everywhere too. Anglo-Indian weddings were usually generous, boisterous affairs, and this one was shaping up to be no different. There would be far too much food, drinks flowing freely and great music playing late into the night, long after the happy couple had retired to loud applause.
The smell of food enveloped Oorgaum Hall as a small army of servants cooked up a storm. Spotted by one of the people setting up t
he tables, Jack had slunk off, feeling every inch the unwelcome outsider. There was nothing new about that.
He was dragged from his thoughts by the arrival of Harold Walker’s car. Walker was driving and at the back, in a froth of white, sat Iris. Jack’s heart pounded at the sight of her. As she alighted from the car – a picture of beauty in her wedding gown – his breathing turned ragged. He thought he would be strong enough to survive this moment and not feel bereft, but his courage failed him.
He wanted to yell out to her. He wanted to strike out at someone for the unfairness of her marrying a man that he knew in his heart she didn’t love enough.
Jack reminded himself that Iris had given herself to him first.
‘Second-hand goods, Ned,’ he sneered. But it only made him feel worse, and in that moment he hated himself more deeply than ever before. He would always be the invisible thorn in their lives.
He watched the bridesmaids clamour around to billow out the bride’s skirt, fuss with her flowers and straighten her train. And in that moment, as she turned, he saw her clearly.
Not even her veil could keep out his searching gaze, and through it he saw his dark-haired beauty. She was radiating a glow of such happiness it hurt his heart more deeply than any of her words had. Her dimples were deep in her cheeks for her smile was so wide, and he could tell she was trying not to cry from her joy, although her chin trembled slightly when her father proudly offered his elbow for her to take the walk down the aisle.
Jack heard the processional music give way to the first strains of ‘Here Comes the Bride’.
Just before they set off in time with the music, Jack watched Harold Walker pat his daughter’s hand that was crooked around his elbow, and then he leaned down and kissed the top of her head. Moments later the shadows of the church consumed Iris and she was gone.
A sob escaped Jack but he knew it was over now. He didn’t wait for the service or the hysterical casting of rice and rose petals at the married couple. Instead, he ran. Ran like a man possessed, back up Funnell’s Hill, all the way to Marikuppam, where he knew two fresh bottles of solace awaited to help him drown out the sound of the victorious wedding march in his mind.
Despite the speed at which they’d had to pull the wedding together, the reception had been a brilliant party, the likes of which KGF hadn’t seen in years. The Walker women and friends had put on a spread fit for royalty, with gold leaf glinting from the tops of the platters piled high with the traditionally festive biryani rice and its waves of colours – pale orange and yellow layered with white. A variety of delicious meat and vegetable curries were on offer, and a magnificent spread of roasted meats and accoutrements were laid out for those who preferred Western fare.
By the time they got around to cutting the four layers of rich fruit cake with its dense covering of marzipan and equally thick coating of bright white icing, most guests were groaning from overindulgence and begging for a chance to move around the French chalked dance floor to work off some of the feast.
Ned had never been the focus of anyone’s attention before. The notion struck him as he looked down the rows of tables from his privileged position on the bridal table and marvelled at his life. He was one of the two most important people in KGF this day. Sitting next to him was his new wife, arguably the most beautiful young woman in KGF … or indeed India! He had taken possession of a new, large house that he could now raise a family in for as long as he remained in his new position of manager of the electrical department. And he was still so young. Ned looked around him. People were raising their glasses, smiling, toasting him. He gazed at Iris and she looked radiant, a little weary perhaps from all the celebrations and the wedding dance that seemed to go on forever, stretching over not one but so many tunes.
Perhaps it was time? He felt a tremor of excitement that soon they would be alone. He wondered whether Iris was nervous. Ned wasn’t a virgin – Jack had seen to that, dragging him into Bangalore to meet women, even paying for him the first time.
‘Let’s get that monkey off your back,’ Jack had laughed.
While Ned didn’t exactly feel easy around women, he believed he would be a tender, loving guide for Iris and she would never regret giving him the gift of her virginity.
‘Shall we go?’ he whispered to her, suddenly fired with desire.
Iris turned, smiling, and nodded. ‘You know my family’s been into the house, don’t you?’
‘I fully expect Rupert had supervised an applepie bed for us.’
She giggled. ‘No, I forbid him to ruin our special night.’
‘Come on, then, Mrs Sinclair. I can’t wait to get that beautiful gown off you.’ He stood, offering Iris his arm, and within a blink it seemed the entire hall had noticed their move and an eruption of cheers went up.
‘You know they’ll make us run through the good-luck tunnel, don’t you?’
‘I’d be disappointed if they didn’t,’ he replied, kissing her cheek.
And so, to the sounds of wild applause and whistling, their heads being touched for luck, Ned and Iris made their way through the arch of linked hands, laughed at the fresh avalanche of pearly white grains of dry rice and dried rose petals and survived yet another round of congratulatory kisses and hugs.
Waving to her parents, they were finally permitted to flee. They did so on foot, Iris believing there was something of a fairytale quality to run down the drive, across the main road towards the electricity department and to the back of the property where her new house awaited her.
Ned opened the door and turned to her. ‘Let’s do this properly, shall we?’ He picked her up amidst soft squeals and giggles, and as he carried her over the threshold of their new home he buried his face in her neck and kissed it.
‘I love you, Iris. Thank you for marrying me.’
‘Oh, Ned,’ she began and then dissolved into tears. ‘Don’t thank me.’
‘I want to. I want you to know you’ve made me the happiest man in the world. And nothing’s ever going to come between us. I love you more than life itself. I know that sounds dramatic but this is a very dramatic moment for me.’
‘I’m sorry Bella wasn’t here to share this day.’
‘Bella and Jack. Perhaps one day we can repair the damage but for now I have you and that’s all that matters to me … you and our children.’
She swallowed hard, making a gulping sound that was half sob, half despair.
‘Now, don’t cry on our first proper night together. I want it to be perfect for you … no tears, just happiness.’
‘Perhaps we’ll make a baby tonight, Ned,’ she said hesitantly.
He was the one who felt choked now. ‘Nothing in the world would make me happier.’
They barely noticed the lavender strewn over the floor that released its fragrance as they crushed it underfoot; they hardly realised it mingled with the scent of fresh rose petals scattered over their bed of new white linen – a gift from Rupert – or the roomful of flowers in vases with humorous notes attached to each one … everything from directions for how to undress a woman to sketches offering advice on the birds and the bees. More of Rupert’s dry wit.
Ned had eyes only for Iris, and when she was finally released from her glorious prison of a gown and stood before him in her silk and lace underwear, he felt suddenly too frightened to shatter the stillness of the moment.
Despite her pretty new underwear, Iris felt naked with guilt. Ned hadn’t moved. He was staring at her, staring into her. She prayed that he would never guess the truth of what lay behind the skin he was admiring so intently.
Jack remained a bruise on her heart. She didn’t hold out the same high hope that Ned had for the possibility of building bridges with Jack.
Frankly, she’d prefer it if Jack would simply leave KGF and make it easier on everyone. Right now, his presence was a constant threat. She begged herself to stop thinking about Jack, to let herself go, so she could finally enjoy Ned and his affections.
Ned was gentle and g
enerous, taking his time, making sure Iris’s pleasures were entirely in tandem with his. But when that nerve-tingling explosion erupted deep within him and seemed to come from his toes, he felt as though it would go on forever.
He wished it would. He wished it could.
It had never felt this amazing before. But then, he’d never made love to a woman he truly loved before. And he realised, as he lay in a tangle of their intertwined limbs, that the romantic books he’d read were right. Love was the difference.
‘I’ve never been happier,’ he whispered.
‘I’m glad,’ she replied, her voice muffled by her face snuggled deep into his neck.
‘Was it … was it all right?’
‘It was exactly how I’d imagined it would be, Ned,’ she said, stirring and raising herself onto an elbow. ‘It was wonderful.’
He smiled. ‘I didn’t want to hurt you.’
‘You didn’t.’
‘In that case, let’s do it again,’ he said, winning a spate of giggles from his wife.
He hoped the laughter would never end.
Jack cleared a throat that was choking with emotion. ‘Just leave it there and fetch me some more ice and a fresh glass,’ he ordered.
Gangai looked troubled as he set the second bottle down and went off to do his master’s bidding, returning with a small bowl of ice and a crystal glass.
‘You can leave for the night, Gangai. I won’t need you any longer.’
‘Yes, sir,’ the man said, unsure.
‘Go and enjoy your arrack, while I drink my poison.’
He’d ignored Kanakammal’s food and made a main course of Scotch on the rocks; dessert was gin with a bare dash of tonic and plenty of lemon. Getting drunk was the easy part, but it didn’t do its job of blanking his mind. His irrational, freefalling thoughts were now well and truly out of control. Images of Iris lying naked with Ned were so vivid, he felt he was going mad with fury and jealousy.
He began to rant, moving around his sitting room. He didn’t remember even moving inside off the verandah, and now everything seemed to be in his way. He heard china and glass smashing and realised it was him, blundering into the small side table where the servant had put his food. Damn the food, he thought. ‘Gangai!’
Fields of Gold Page 41