Dinah Jefferies
* * *
BEFORE THE RAINS
Contents
Delhi, India – 23 December 1912
Part One
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Part Two
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Part Three
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Part Four
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
Chapter 35
Chapter 36
Chapter 37
Chapter 38
Epilogue
Author’s Note
Thank You
Follow Penguin
By the same author
The Separation
The Tea Planter’s Wife
The Silk Merchant’s Daughter
For Richard
Delhi, India – 23 December 1912
Anna Fraser stood waiting on the ornate balcony of one of the haveli mansion houses lining the route. At eleven in the morning, the streets had been washed and sprayed with oil, but still the wind-swirled dust irritated the eyes of the gathering crowd. The rows of wide-spreading neem and peepal trees along the centre of ancient Chandni Chowk blew about wildly, as if in defiance, while crows added their voices, cawing and cackling high above the narrow lanes fanning out from the main square.
Anna held up her white parasol and nervously glanced down at the vendors selling everything from fresh sherbet to fried fish with chilli. There were strange-looking fruits, chiffon sarees, books and jewellery, and, behind fine latticed windows, women losing their eyesight embroidering delicate silk shawls. Where the smell of sandalwood permeated the air, apothecaries made fortunes from oddly coloured oils and potions. Snake oil, David called them, though Anna had learnt that some were obtained from crushed lizards and the colour was that of the pomegranate. It was said that whatever you desired you could find it here in the heart of the city.
Whatever you desired! Oh the irony of that, she thought.
She turned towards the spot where the Viceroy would soon appear seated on an elephant, accompanied by his wife the Vicerine. Bursting with pride, Anna’s assistant district officer husband, David, had informed her that he too would be riding an elephant, one of fifty-three, all picked to follow immediately behind the Viceroy at the head of the procession. Delhi was to take over from Calcutta as the centre of British Government, and this was the day Viceroy Lord Hardinge would be sealing the deal by making a ceremonial state entry into the old walled city, starting from the main Delhi railway station on Queen’s Road.
Anna identified the sound of canaries and nightingales hanging in dozens of cages gracing the frontages of the shops below and, further away, the harsh noise of the few tram cars still running. Then she looked down at the riot of oriental colour as the teeming crowd continued to assemble. She called to her daughter, Eliza.
‘Come now, darling. They’ll be here in a few minutes.’
Eliza had been sitting quietly reading to pass the time, but rushed out at the sound of her mother’s voice.
‘Where, where?’
‘Ants in your pants? Again. Just be patient,’ Anna said and glanced at her watch. Eleven thirty.
Eliza shook her head. She had been waiting too long and with this level of unprecedented excitement it was hard when you were only ten.
‘It must be nearly time to see Daddy now,’ she said.
Anna sighed. ‘Look at you. Your dress is already crumpled.’
Eliza glanced down at her frilly white dress, especially made for today. She had tried her best to keep it nice, yet somehow she and dresses never quite got on. It wasn’t that she didn’t try to keep them clean but there were always such interesting things to do. Luckily her father never minded if she ended up in a mess. She loved him ferociously; handsome and funny, he always had a warm hug for her and a wrapped sweet lurking in the fluff at the bottom of his shirt pocket.
Behind the natives the British, arrayed in pale cottons and linens and seated in stands lining the street, seemed colourless by comparison. Despite the splendour of the day Anna couldn’t help thinking that many of the Indians looked listless, though perhaps it was because of the bitterly cold wind blowing in from the Himalayas. At least the British looked suitably excited. She wrinkled her nose at the smell of ginger and ghee in the air and, drumming her fingers on the railing, continued to wait. David had promised so much when he suggested she come out to India with him, but with each passing year the magic had soured. Down below, fidgeting children began to break free. A very young toddler had stepped out of the line and into the path where the procession would pass on its way to the fort.
Anna tried to work out who the child’s mother might be. How careless to allow such a young child to be so far from her, she thought. She spotted a woman, wearing a bright emerald skirt and matching shawl, who seemed to be lost in thought while staring up at the balcony, and it crossed Anna’s mind she could be the child’s mother. It was almost as if the woman was looking directly at her and, as their eyes met, Anna raised a hand to alert her to the child’s plight. Just as she did, the woman dropped her gaze and stepped out to draw her wayward child back into the safety of the crowd.
As Anna watched the hordes flowing in below, she was glad to be set apart from the complex mix of toothless hags, their heads and faces covered, the lone beggars in threadbare blankets, the mixed traders and their children, plus the local residents wrapped up in shawls, all of whom seemed to be screeching at each other. As cats prowled the street, heads raised to watch the pigeons flocking in the branches of the trees, middle-aged men looked on importantly, casting their eyes now and then on the so-called dancing girls, and in the background the voices of children singing lifted Anna’s heart a little.
She couldn’t help but be aware of the past pervading every inch of the historic square, seeping even into the bones of the buildings. Everyone knew this was where the processions of the emperors had taken place, where the Moghul Princes had pranced on their dancing horses, and where the British had come flaunting plans to build a powerful new Imperial Delhi. Since the King’s arrival in Delhi a year before, peace had triumphed, with no political murders at all; hence it had been deemed unnecessary to engage special precautionary measures to police the day.
She heard the loud boom of guns signalling the imminent arrival of the Viceroy. The guns sounded again and a roar went up from the crowd. Now people hung from all the windows and balconies, heads turned towards the repeated booming. Anna experienced a jolt of something unaccountable, almost a premonition, she would think after it had happened, but for now she shook her head. She glanced at her watch again, then glimpsed the biggest elephant she had ever seen, carrying a splendid open-topped silver howdah, or seat, from where Lord Hardinge and his wife viewed the scene. The blue-grey elephant itself was decorated in the flamboyant native way, painted with coloured patterns and covered in trappings of velvet and gold. The procession had already passed through the Queen’s Gardens, where the public had not been
allowed to collect; now, as they entered Chandni Chowk, the cheering reached a crescendo.
‘I can’t see Daddy yet,’ Eliza tried shouting above the din. ‘He is there, isn’t he?’
‘Goodness, are you not the most impatient child who ever lived?’
Eliza gazed down at the street, where dozens of children were attempting to surge forward. She raised her brows. ‘I don’t think so. Look at them, and their fathers aren’t even in the procession.’
She leant out as far as she dared, pressing her hand into the railings and jumping, and, as the long line of elephants gradually came into sight, she could hardly contain her joy.
‘Be careful,’ her mother scolded. ‘If you insist on leaping about like that you’ll fall out.’
Behind the Viceroy were two specially chosen district officers, then the Princes of Rajputana and the Punjab chiefs on even more elaborately decorated elephants. They were surrounded by their own native soldiers, carrying swords and lances and wearing the usual ceremonial armour, and behind them would come the rest of the British Government on plainer elephants. Eliza knew the order off by heart. Her father had explained every moment of the day and she had insisted that he pause and look up to wave at her as his elephant reached the spot beneath their balcony. The wind had now dropped, the sun had come out and it had turned into a perfect morning. The moment had finally come.
Anna glanced at her watch again. Eleven forty-five. Bang on time. Across the street the woman in emerald now held the small child in her arms so that it might see. That’s better, Anna thought.
Loud cheers broke out from the British, with shouts of Hurrah! and God save the King! While Lord Hardinge saluted back, Eliza spotted her father. She waved excitedly and, as the Viceroy’s elephant took another few steps forward, David Fraser’s animal was made to pause so that he might fulfil his daughter’s wish. As he glanced up at the balcony to return her wave, a shattering explosion, just like the massive roar of a cannon, instantly silenced the crowd. The buildings seemed to shake and the entire procession came to a shuddering halt. Anna and Eliza stared in shock as flying particles and white smoke belched outwards. Feeling as if she’d been punched in the chest, Eliza rubbed her watering eyes and leapt away from the rail. She couldn’t see what had happened, but as the air trembled and the smoke cleared a little her mother gasped.
‘Mummy, what is it?’ Eliza cried out. ‘What is happening?’
No reply.
‘Mummy!’
But it seemed as if her mother could not hear. All Eliza knew was that something had flown through the air and now she didn’t know what to do. She gazed at the stunned crowd in confusion. Why didn’t her mother answer her? She pulled Anna’s sleeve and saw that her mother’s knuckles were white as she gripped the railing.
Down below the crowd had now surged forward, and through the cloud of dust Eliza saw soldiers running towards the Viceroy from every direction. A terrible smell of burnt metal and something chemical made it hard to breathe. She coughed and then pulled at her mother’s sleeve again.
‘Mummy!’ Eliza shrieked.
But her mother was staring, white-faced, wide-eyed, completely frozen.
In a strange state of suspended animation, Anna seemed only aware that across the street the woman in green had fainted. Eliza saw her too but didn’t know why her mother kept pointing at the woman. All she knew was that a horrible feeling in her stomach was making her want to cry.
‘Daddy’s all right, isn’t he, Mummy?’
Finally, Anna noticed her. ‘I don’t know, darling.’
And though it seemed as if she only had eyes for the woman across the street, Anna had seen her husband stagger in his seat, then lurch forward. For a moment he had seemed to straighten up and even smile at Eliza, but then he had slumped forward again and this time remained motionless. The servant holding the state umbrella for the Viceroy had fallen sideways too, and was now hanging tangled in the ropes of the howdah.
Eliza, meanwhile, only had one thought and that was for her father. He was all right. He had to be all right. Suddenly she knew what to do, and giving up on her mother she turned on her heels, ran down the stairs and out into the street, where she collided with a young Indian boy who seemed not much older than her. Unable to find the words, she stared at the boy in a state of disbelief. ‘My daddy,’ she whispered.
The boy took her hand. ‘Come away. There isn’t anything you can do.’
But Eliza had to see her father. She shook the boy off and pushed her way through the crowd. When she reached the front she froze. The elephant was so terrified it refused to kneel, and Eliza watched in utter dismay as another English officer positioned a ladder on a packing case from a nearby shop so that her father could be lifted down. After they had done it they laid him on the pavement. At first his body looked unmarked, though his face was translucent like ice, and his eyes were wide open in shock. Eliza tripped over her feet and almost fell as she ran to kneel by his side. She stared in horror, then flung her arms around him, her dress soaking up the blood now seeping from the one person in the world she loved above all others.
‘I’m afraid he didn’t stand a chance, poor bugger,’ someone was saying. ‘Screws, nails, gramophone needles, glass. It looks like that’s what the bastards used in the bomb. Something got him straight in the chest. Almost a fluke, I’d say. But if we have to tear Chandni Chowk to the ground we’ll get the so-called freedom group who did this.’
Eliza continued to wrap her arms around her father and with her mouth to his ear she whispered, ‘I love you, Daddy.’ And forever afterwards she would tell herself that he had heard.
Then, above the growing whispers of the crowd, the young boy gently spoke. ‘Please, Miss, let me help you up. He is gone.’
As Eliza glanced up at him, everything seemed to have become unreal.
Part One
* * *
‘Far away from us in dreams and in time, India belongs to the ancient Orient of our soul.’
– André Malraux, Anti-Memoirs, 1967
1
The princely state of Juraipore, Rajputana, in the Indian Empire
November 1930
For just a moment Eliza caught a glimpse of the façade of the castle. It shocked her, the way it shimmered – a mirage conjured from the desert haze, alien and a little frightening. The wind stuttered and then picked up again and, for a moment, she closed her eyes to shut out this trembling extension of the sand. No matter how far from home, and without the faintest idea of how things would work out, there could be no turning back, and she felt the fear in the pit of her stomach. At the age of twenty-nine this would be her biggest commission since setting up as a professional photographer, though it was still unclear to her why Clifford Salter had chosen her. However, he had explained that she might be better placed to photograph the women of the castle, as many were still nervous of outsiders, and especially men. And the Viceroy had particularly asked for a British photographer to guard against conflicted loyalties. She would be paid monthly, with a lump sum for successful completion.
She opened her eyes on air thick with the glitter of sand and dust, the castle hidden from view once more, and above her the seamless blue sky, merciless in its heat. The escort leading her towards the city twisted round to tell her to hurry. She bowed her head against the stinging and climbed back into his camel-pulled cart, clasping her camera bag to her chest. Above all else she must not allow sand to damage her precious cargo.
Closer to their destination she raised her eyes to see a fortress stretching across the mountain top, dreamlike. A hundred birds swooped across the lilac horizon, threads of pink cloud tracing delicate patterns high above them. Almost drugged by the heat, she struggled not to fall victim to the enchantment; she was here to work, after all. But if it wasn’t the wind calling up the distant past as she hunched up against it, it was her own more recent memories.
When Anna Fraser had contacted Clifford Salter, a wealthy godson of her husband’s,
she had thought that with his connections he might find her daughter a position as a clerk in a solicitor’s office in Cirencester, or something of that kind. She had hoped it would prevent her daughter from trying to make her way as a photographer. After all, she would say, who wants a woman photographer? But someone did and that had been Clifford, who said she’d be ideal and would suit his purposes perfectly. Anna couldn’t object. He was the British Crown representative, after all, and answered only to the Rajputana Chief Political Officer or AGG, who exercised indirect rule over all twenty-two princely states. He, the Residents, and the minor political officers from the smaller states all belonged to the political department directly under the Viceroy.
So now Eliza faced a year inside a castle where she knew no one. Her commission was to photograph life in the princely state for a new archive to mark the seat of British Government finally moving from Calcutta to Delhi. The building of New Delhi had taken much longer than expected, and the war had delayed everything, but now the time had finally arrived.
She’d heard her mother’s warnings about the sufferings of the people and saw that outside the huge walls of the castle urchins played in the dust and dirt. She spotted a beggar woman sitting cross-legged near a sleeping cow and gazing ahead with empty eyes. Beside her bamboo scaffolding leaning against a high wall blew perilously, with two planks of wood coming loose right above a naked child squatting on the ground beneath.
‘Stop,’ she called out and, as the cart rumbled to a standstill, she leapt out, just as one of the planks began slipping from its tethers. With her heart pounding, she reached the child and pulled him from harm’s way. The wood fell to the ground and splintered into several pieces. The child ran off and the cart driver shrugged. Didn’t they care, she wondered, as they climbed the ramp.
A few minutes later the cart driver stood arguing with the guards outside the fortress. They were not obliging, even though he’d shown them the papers. Eliza looked up at the forbidding frontage, and the enormous gated entrance wide enough for an army to pass through; camels, horses, carriages too. She’d even heard that the ruler had several cars. Meanwhile the vehicle she had been travelling in had broken down, and continuing by camel cart meant Eliza was tired, thirsty and coated in dust. She could feel it in her sore eyes, and in her itching scalp. She couldn’t help scratching, though it only made things worse.
Before the Rains Page 1