He’d forgotten that the manservant had gone but he didn’t care that Kanakammal was the one who answered his roar. He smiled crookedly; she was the only one brave enough to confront him in this mood.
‘I need a glass!’ he bellowed.
‘You shouldn’t drink any more, sir.’
‘Get me a glass, woman!’
She turned and left the room, returning briskly with a fresh glass and a broom with rags to clean up the mess. He sat down heavily and poured himself a new slug of the gin.
‘Leave that!’ he said, waving an unsteady hand at the upended food and broken crockery.
‘No,’ she said evenly. ‘Or you’ll walk through it.’
She elegantly arranged her sari in order to kneel down and then set to cleaning up his mess. Jack admired the curves of her body that he could see quite clearly now that her loose sari was stretched over her haunches. Her long arms moved gracefully, deliberately.
‘You disapprove of me, don’t you?’
She stood in that sinuous way of hers. ‘My opinion is not important.’
‘But I want to hear it,’ he demanded.
‘The last time I gave it, you banished me.’
‘I won’t do that again. I missed you too much,’ he said, the alcohol dropping his guard. ‘Tell me what you think.’
She turned and regarded him. ‘This is only a short escape from your troubles. Tomorrow morning, they’ll still be there and she’ll still be married to Mr Sinclair.’
‘I know,’ he said sadly. She seemed to understand everything about him.
‘Is getting married so important to you?’
He laughed, waved the bottle at her. ‘No, but every man needs a wife.’
‘Then choose someone else.’
‘I want Iris.’
‘I think you’re too used to getting what you want.’
Jack stood unsteadily, a bottle in one hand, a half-empty glass in another and threw his arms out wide. Gin flew from the glass and hit the wall. He didn’t notice. ‘Who, then? Who will have me?’
She looked down. ‘It is my understanding that most of the single women in KGF would welcome your attention, sir.’
‘And how would you know that?’
‘People talk in our shop. They think we are stupid because we’re Indian.’
‘Well, you’re far from stupid. In fact, I’d go so far as to say you’re the most intelligent and irritatingly wise woman I know. And you’re a mere girl! Now me, I’m a drunk, a lecher, apparently. I’m no good and soon any girl who took me on would see that.’
Kanakammal raised her face to him and even through his intoxication he felt the burn of that icy glance, like frostbite. It wounded him to feel her disdain. At least in his own home he shouldn’t have to put up with scorn, but there was something else lurking in her look that he couldn’t read.
‘You’re no good to anyone when you’re like this,’ she said, surprising him with her daring.
‘I’ll drink to that,’ he said and tipped what remained in the gin bottle down his throat, not even bothering with the glass. ‘You know, we’re a good pair, me and you.’
She just stood there staring at him as he pointed the empty bottle at her. ‘No one’s good enough for you.’ He belched. ‘And I’m not good enough for anyone.’ Jack laughed at his clever words. ‘We should get married. At least I’d eat well!’
She remained still. Not even her bracelets jangled.
He nodded, pleased with himself. ‘Yes, that’s it. We’ll get married. I’ll show Iris Walker and her snivelling, murderous husband. I don’t need either of them.’ He looked up in a pleased blur. ‘What’s your name again?’
‘Kanakammal.’
He tried to pronounce it and failed miserably. ‘Nope, I just can’t say it. So Elizabeth it will have to be. Elizabeth Bryant – it has a good ring to it. Come on, get your coat.’
She put down the broom. ‘Let me help you into bed.’
Jack waggled a finger. ‘Ah, no, you vixen. That comes later. We’re going to see your father now.’
‘You are not —’
‘Don’t tell me what I’m capable or not capable of doing. Do I repulse you?’
He wasn’t sure if she understood the word but she certainly got the meaning of his question. She shook her head.
‘Well, I should! I repulse myself.’
‘I refuse to marry you,’ she said firmly.
‘Aha, you see. Even my own servant, when offered all of this, all of my worldly goods … even she can’t bear to marry me.’
‘I refuse to marry you now, in this state. Tomorrow morning, if you still remember, you can ask me again.’
She didn’t wait for his reply. She left him swaying in his sitting room, unsure of what just occurred.
Jack woke to the sound of parakeets squabbling in the tree outside his window. He expected to feel sick with a huge headache but after hauling himself from his bed and standing beneath a cold shower, he was surprised to find he was pulling up reasonably well. It didn’t make sense, he thought, as he slicked back his hair.
He was wearing grey Oxford bags and a plain white shirt, open-necked. He looked thoroughly normal but inside he felt as though he were teetering on the edge of a precipice. He didn’t know how to make this despair go away.
He could hear his father’s voice urging him. Pull yourself together, John! You’re a Bryant, man! Act like you belong to this family. Get on with your life. Get yourself a good woman, someone who loves you this time.
He heard the soft tinkle of jewellery and swung around to see Kanakammal with a tray.
‘I brought you coffee, sir.’
‘Er, good, thank you, although I thought I’d be needing a lot more of it to sober up. How much did I drink last night?’
She took a breath. ‘Not as much as you think.’
He frowned.
‘I threw most of it away. And whatever remained was watered down as the night went on.’
‘You what?’
‘Forgive me. I didn’t want to watch you get sick, sir. You haven’t been well and you are not a happy man. Gin can only make you feel worse.’
He looked at her in astonishment. ‘You threw my gin away … when?’
‘When you visited the bathroom, sir. I also hid the Scotch. You only drank enough to get a little drunk. Your sorrows did the rest.’
He regarded her now with a mixture of admiration and disbelief. ‘I’m sorry about last night. I’m sorry for some of the things I said.’
‘You always say bad things when you drink.’
He let it pass. ‘Listen, I seem to recall discussing marriage with you.’
She looked down. ‘I didn’t think you would remember.’
‘I’m afraid because of your clever trick I remember everything.’
‘It doesn’t matter,’ she said. ‘I’m leaving today, sir.’
‘Leaving?’
‘I cannot live like this any longer. You frighten me. Your devotion to Mrs Sinclair is destructive, and I am the one who suffers your rage. You send Gangai home but I must stay here, in this house, not knowing if you’re going to kill me or kill yourself. I cannot risk Namathevi.’ She swallowed. ‘Forgive me. I am your servant but I have decided I will work for my father and I hope you can find someone else to cook —’
‘I don’t want anyone else here,’ he said, his tone sullen.
‘Then you must eat Gangai’s food or learn to cook.’
‘I want you here and you cooking and you looking after me.’
She actually smiled. ‘That sounds like marriage to me. I am sorry the women in your life keep denying you, Mr Bryant. Don’t let your coffee go cold. I am packed. I am leaving now. Goodbye, sir.’ She turned.
‘Kenkakamal! Wait!’
And she laughed. Her laugh was pure and infectious. Having never heard it, or seen anything close to joy touch her eyes since she’d come to work with him, its warmth touched him deeply.
‘I’m sorry. I really
can’t say it. My tongue gets twisted.’
‘I am pleased that you finally tried.’
‘Don’t leave me.’
‘Why?’
‘Look,’ he began, half shocked, half bemused with what he was leading up to. He ran a hand through his hair, confused. ‘I don’t think I can love any other woman in the way she should be loved. How I feel … felt … no, still feel about Iris is not something I have control over.’
‘You don’t have to explain —’
He held up a hand and she fell silent.
Jack continued, his voice hoarse from the night before as much as the difficulty of what he was revealing. Saying it aloud seemed to help get it all into some perspective. ‘I can’t control my feelings for her in the same way that I can’t control my heartbeat. It’s something my body just does. But I can control my own behaviour and I think yesterday, seeing her so happy at the church, well, I think I’m the one with the problem. Iris has made her decision and got past whatever feelings she had for me. And so it’s time I took control of my behaviour and kept my feelings to myself.’ He gave a long sigh. ‘The thing is, Kenkamal,’ and he refused to look at her now in case she was readying to explode into laughter again, ‘I do want a home, not just a house, and perhaps until there’s a Mrs Bryant, that’s not going to happen for me. I need to prove myself here. And remaining a bachelor is only going to lead me further down the path of irresponsibility rather than the more stable lifestyle my employers, my parents even, would admire.’ He stopped talking and stared at her. He really had shocked himself that he was standing here, with this question on his lips, but it did seem right. Whatever invisible force had brought him to this point was urging him on.
She blinked, unsure of what was expected of her. He could see in her expression that she was running back over what he’d just said to see whether a question had been asked that she was required to answer.
‘What I’m saying, K—’ He sighed. ‘What I’m trying to say is, why don’t we marry? I’m not in love with you, you surely can’t be in love with me, but I don’t want you to leave and I already know you hate working in your father’s shop. If I wrote this all down on a piece of paper, it would make perfect sense. It is a very convenient marriage, you could say.’
‘Convenient,’ she repeated.
‘Yes, you know, it works out well for all parties involved.’
‘I know what convenient means, sir. I’m just not sure I want to be associated with a marriage like that.’
‘Would you prefer to marry an Indian? Is that it?’
‘I would prefer for the man I marry to love me.’
He scratched his head, embarrassed. ‘Well, I suppose I do love you, Elizabeth. I just don’t love you in the way I love Iris.’
‘How exactly do you love me, sir?’
He weighed up her question. ‘I love your mind and the way it works. I love your grace and the way you move. I love your food. I love the way you care for me. I love the sound of your bangles and anklets, and I missed them sorely when you were not here. I love the way that when you’re in the house everything seems in balance. I love your saris. I’d rather like to see your hair unplaited and falling around your shoulders, and above all, I love your eyes and the way they see through me. Now, don’t you think I love enough about you that marrying me won’t be such a hardship for you?’
‘What would people think?’ she whispered.
‘Do you care?’
She stood for a few moments in silence and then finally shook her head, lifting her eyes to him. He smiled at the way they blazed in defiance.
‘Neither do I.’
‘We would have to speak with my father.’
He nodded.
‘Will I still be your servant?’
He laughed. ‘Absolutely not! You will be Mrs Elizabeth Bryant. I’m afraid I just can’t get to grips with your name.’
‘I am not wearing clothes like the half-breeds.’
‘I would be sad if you did. You are glorious in your saris and I will buy you one in every colour.’
‘I do not fit the society you move in, sir.’
‘I do not expect you to. Nothing will change. We shall live here, as we have, no doubt fighting as we do. But you will be my wife and you will have status that no one can take from you.’
‘I can tell Gangai what to do?’
‘Don’t you do that already?’
She gave a tentative smile and again he was struck by how the warmth touched her eyes and made them thaw.
‘I will need to bring my sisters and a brother to live here.’
‘Fine. Er, how many of them?’
‘Namathevi, her twin brother and the next sister down.’
‘Children.’
‘Yes. They need training.’
‘No problem. So long as they live out the back and don’t fiddle with my gramophone.’
‘You don’t have one, sir.’
‘I’m getting one. Don’t call me sir. You will have to learn to call me Jack.’
‘But you can’t say Kanakammal?’
‘I mangle it and you deserve better. But the name I am giving you is very, very loved where I come from. It is a compliment. Do we have an arrangement, Elizabeth?’
‘Yes.’ He saw no hesitation.
‘Then let’s go see your father and we shall be married immediately.’
She laughed and it was a deep, throaty laugh, nothing at all like Iris’s.
Later, alone with her father in the back of the shop after Jack had left for his shift, Kanakammal embraced her father.
‘I could hardly refuse him, but why?’ Chinathambi asked, this time in Tamil.
She smiled sadly to herself. ‘Would you believe me if I told you I love him.’
He stared at her, astonished. ‘Truly?’
‘From the first moment I saw him.’
‘But you never spoke of this.’
‘It was not my place to. He has been my employer – until now, nothing more.’
‘And does he love you?’
‘In his own way, yes.’
‘Is it enough for you?’
‘I will make it enough. I want to be his wife, no one else’s.’
‘Marrying an Englishman will have its problems.’
‘I am prepared for it.’
‘He has said he will provide for all of us. He is generous.’
‘He is. We are lucky.’
‘I would never ask this of you.’
‘I know … and you didn’t. Be assured I make this decision freely. I love him, Father. I could not be with another man now.’
‘Be certain before I tell your mother and all the wailing begins.’ She grinned and he touched her cheek. ‘You are my favourite, you know that. I want you to be happy.’
‘It’s not because he’s English but because he’s Jack. I want to be with him. I shall be Elizabeth Bryant.’
His smile when he took her arm was halfway between sorrow and bemusement. ‘Come. We shall close for today. We have wedding arrangements to make.’
The wedding a fortnight later was tiny at Jack’s behest and, given that it was a mixed marriage, it was easier to keep it small. Their vows were taken, their marriage blessed quietly with no fanfare at the local Catholic chapel after the Sunday service when the KGF community had disappeared inside their homes for traditional family gatherings.
It’s not that Jack wanted secrecy particularly but he wanted no fuss, and Kanakammal was equally determined to keep their wedding as private as possible. Nevertheless, lots of Indians filed into the church. Jack had no best man, pulling the pair of thick gold rings from his waistcoat pocket himself and placing them on the open bible.
His bride, magnificent in a beaded and silver-threaded pure white sari, made her vows in a firm, clear voice.
Later, in the back garden of his house, far away from prying eyes, Kanakammal’s family and friends gathered for some traditional Tamil blessings of the house and couple. As her family and
most of the people attending were converted Catholics, there were fewer rituals than Jack had anticipated. But the food was glorious, cooked by her mother, Kanchana, and a host of aunties.
Later still, when the festivities were done and Jack was finally alone with his new wife, he reached into his pocket and withdrew his mother’s watch. He’d been feeling its presence more keenly this day than any other and it was fitting that he give his precious keepsake to Elizabeth. As he had taken his vows he had realised that she had become a lifebuoy in his ocean of discontent. She would rescue him. She would bring balance and stability. And he suspected that she would love him in a way he could not love her. He felt sorry for both of them that Iris stood between them; but Elizabeth was going into this entirely open-eyed. He would do his utmost to provide for her.
He was sitting on the bed. ‘Come here.’ He patted the eiderdown.
She moved shyly and joined him.
‘You were very beautiful today.’
‘Thank you. I felt like a goddess with all that attention.’
‘You looked like one.’
‘Thank you for making my family and friends feel welcome.’
‘I did nothing. They did everything.’
‘You permitted them into your home.’
‘Our home.’
She smiled. ‘Can I get you anything?’
‘No. But I want to give you this. Consider it my wedding gift. It is the most precious item I own, not because of its value but because of what it means to me.’
She stared at the exquisite wristwatch in his palm.
‘It’s fine if you don’t care to wear it. I know it doesn’t really suit what —’
‘I will wear it proudly because of who gave it to me and what it means to him. Is this your mother’s?’
‘Yes.’
‘It is so elegant.’
Jack clasped it around her and the black wristband looked incongruous alongside her gold bangles; they challenged the glint of the diamonds in the lamplight of their bedroom.
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