A Garland of Marigolds

by Isobel Chace

  “I’ll call Lakshmi,” he said abruptly and, turning on his heel, walked out of the laboratory.

  Left alone, I could get a much better idea of the work that was being done. A few sickly wheat plants had been pickled in jars and I looked at them with interest. They were a far cry from the wheat I was accustomed to in Europe. I reckoned that the yield from these plants could only be about half what it should be, and they were all suffering from diseases that were easily curable. Nearly half of the specimens showed signs of a disease of the roots that had practically been mastered in England.

  A shadow moved across the jars, and I looked up and saw that Lakshmi had joined me in the laboratory.

  “Hello,” I said.

  She gave me a mildly reproving look, apparently not sure that such a greeting was entirely proper.

  “Do you want me to take you across to the other house now?” she asked.

  “If you don’t mind,” I responded.

  She swished her sari more securely around her shoulders and stepped out of the room, half-waiting for me to follow her. Another flash of lightning blazed across the heavens and was followed by a heavy roll of thunder. Lakshmi winced and then smiled.

  “I am afraid of thunder,” she admitted softly. “It is better when it rains, but these dry storms only make me think that the gods must be angry.”

  I could see what she meant. There was something eerie and supernatural about the white light and the nose with no resulting rain.

  “I’m a bit afraid, too,” I said. “We have nothing like this in England.”

  She gave me a glance of barely concealed scorn.

  “In England life is very much easier,” she said calmly, and led the way through the house and out across the back verandah.

  The air was tense and electric with the storm. I could feel it prickling on my skin and I hesitated to walk across the open space, but Lakshmi went daintily before me picking her way over the rough ground. Surely I could not be less brave than such a tiny, delicate creature. But I was glad when we reached the safety of the second bungalow. It was much smaller than the main building and built on a similar though simplified, pattern of several rooms all looking out into the central area.

  Lakshmi entered one of the small, practically bare rooms and went over to the window, flinging open the shutters.

  “If you need anything, you have only to ask,” she said almost apologetically. I looked around the room with a feeling of dismay. A single bed, low and threaded with string instead of springs, stood in one corner against the wall. Apart from the bed there was only a desk and a homemade wooden chair with one leg at least an inch shorter than the other three. An old, frayed rug had been spread across the floor, somehow accentuating the poverty of the rest of the furnishings.

  “Where do I keep my clothes?” I asked, trying to keep outraged shock out of my voice.

  Lakshmi smiled. She went over to one of the walls and pressed it with both hands. To my surprise it opened at her touch and revealed a spacious cupboard.

  “Everything is kept here,” she said. “It is too hot to have much in the room with you.”

  I was touched by her unspoken sympathy.

  “I’m afraid many things will be strange to me,” I murmured.

  A fresh outbreak of thunder threatened to bring the house down about our ears. Lakshmi stood, slight but foursquare, and still smiling.

  “I think you will very soon grow accustomed to our ways,” she said.

  Many things were strange that evening. The storm rolled away to the distant hills and left the air hot and sultry. Occasionally, one could see a servant sweeping but the dust never disappeared. It covered everything, white and sandy, making the same inevitable patterns in the corners of the rooms. And then, later, there were the suicide squads of insects trying to kill themselves in the oil lamps on the verandah. A servant came to let down the screens made of netting in an attempt to keep them out, but they came through every crack and cranny, in all shapes and sizes, some of them small but equally frenzied in their attempts to reach the light.

  “Now I know I’m home,” Gideon said, surveying a particularly nasty specimen crawling up his trouser leg. How peculiar, I thought, that he should think of this strange and rather frightening place as home. I looked from him to Camilla, who had found a moth and was studying the pleasing sable of the fur on its wings with every sign of delight. It must run in the family, I thought, and crept farther away into the shadows to be by myself. I felt very remote from them all and rather lonely. When I thought of Timothy I wanted to cry, and yet when I tried to remember his face I could only recall the most obvious facets as if he had been no more than a stranger.

  Joseph had gone to his room much earlier and later on I had heard the jeep and presumed he had gone out. I didn’t like to ask where he had gone, but I found that I missed him. Once or twice I surreptitiously looked at my watch and wondered when we were going to eat. A variety of highly spiced smells had been coming from the kitchen for hours, but one glance inside told me why it took so long to prepare the meal. The cook had to grind each spice by hand to make his curry, which he did with tremendous care, making a fresh lot every time.

  “Hungry?” Camilla asked.

  I flushed, aware that I had been looking at my watch yet again.

  “I think I must be,” I answered her.

  Gideon looked up from his drink and smiled. “We have to wait for Joe to get back,” he said calmly.

  Camilla was prepared to argue the point.

  “Joseph wouldn’t mind if we started without him,” she said impulsively.

  “No, but his companion would!” her brother retorted.

  I pricked up my ears, astonished. “Is there anyone else here?” I asked.

  Gideon’s smile became mysterious and quite aggressively masculine.

  “Not here. Joe has gone to fetch her for dinner. She comes around quite a lot when we’re here.” His eyes sparkled. “She’s very pretty and a gentle little thing. You’re both to be kind to her!”

  Camilla gave him a very sisterly look.

  “You’ve been holding out on us!” she accused him. “Who is this mysterious woman? Are you in love with her?”

  Gideon gave her a lazy slap. “That’s none of your business!” he reproved her. “Her name is Julie Burnett and she lives here. Her father stayed on after independence. He has a bungalow in the next village—he retired there. I’m afraid it makes for a rather dull life for Julie.”

  “How old is she?” Camilla demanded.

  He looked at me consideringly. “I suppose she’s about the same age as Miss King.”

  Camilla frowned. “I should think she’s older than that! Suki’s father hasn’t retired!”

  It was my turn to frown. I was not enjoying the two of them discussing me while I was sitting there, especially not as something told me that in Gideon’s eyes at least I was only a pale shadow of this Julie, who was quite obviously the love of his life.

  “The Burnetts didn’t get married until quite late. Julie is their only child and the apple of their eye.”

  Camilla made an unpleasing face. “I can imagine!” she said.

  Gideon’s face lost its good humor.

  “Camilla! Julie is a very attractive person, and if you can’t be civil you can go to your room.” And then, most unfairly, he turned on me. “And that goes for you, too, young woman!”

  Just what I might have answered, I hate to think, but at that moment we could hear the jeep approaching and, a second later, Joseph’s exuberant laugh as he brought Julie around the house to join us.

  It is difficult to describe the impact Julie had on Camilla and me. She was very small and dainty and walked with a bouncy little step that somehow made sure that everyone was looking at her. She was something to look at, too! Her hair was the palest gold and her clothes and her makeup were stunning. With difficulty, I stopped myself from staring at her and went through the movements of greeting her. If this was what Gideon want
ed, I thought, no wonder he disapproved so heartily of me!

  “How do you do, Miss Burnett,” I said bravely.

  Her gray eyes rested gently on mine. It was impossible to tell what she was thinking. I watched her closely as she turned away to Camilla and managed, just in time, to stop myself disliking her for the faintly patronizing smile she gave the younger girl. I would not allow myself to make any impulsive judgments.

  We all sat down in a little semicircle. Miss Burnett pulled her chair as close to Gideon’s as she could manage, and I was oddly comforted when Joseph pulled his closer to mine with a proprietorial air that at another time would have amused me.

  “Settled in?” he asked me.

  I nodded, pleased by the attention he was paying me. I felt at home with Joseph.

  “More or less.” I grinned suddenly. “I haven’t tried the bed yet!”

  He gave me a sympathetic look, joining in my laughter.

  “When I first arrived I didn’t get a good night’s sleep for a week! But after a while you begin to appreciate the simplicity of the arrangements in this dreadful heat!”

  To my surprise Miss Burnett giggled and joined in the conversation.

  “I suppose they’ve given you one of the Indian beds, a charpoy. But you don’t have to be so uncomfortable. You can obtain anything you want in Delhi.”

  Gideon hooted with laughter.

  “At a price! And who wants a spring mattress here?”

  But Julie Burnett was not so easily put off.

  “My family all have proper beds. We wouldn’t have anything else.”

  Camilla and I exchanged glances. Nothing could have reconciled us to our string beds more quickly. It was with difficulty I refrained from laughing. Poor Gideon! Whatever he felt about Julie Burnett himself, his family were all going to hate her! She was not at all their style. I thought back to the house in Putney and his sister’s family and the children and, frankly, I couldn’t see Julie there at all!

  But Gideon couldn’t leave well alone.

  “Why ever not?” he demanded.

  Julie looked decidedly sulky. “Someone has to keep up the standards,” she muttered. “None of you make any attempt to do so here! Poor Daddy thinks it’s dreadful the way you dress and ... and everything. He doesn’t really approve of my coming here at all, so there!”

  Gideon immediately looked contrite.

  “I know,” he said heavily. “It’s difficult for you living here, without many friends of your own kind.”

  Julie patted her hair with a certain sensual pleasure.

  “Now, now, Gideon, darling, you needn’t look so down in the dumps! I shan’t stop coming, no matter what anybody says! As I keep telling myself, someone has to keep you up to the mark, and I don’t suppose you would eat properly or anything unless I saw that you did!”

  I couldn’t bring myself to look at either of them in case I discovered that they were both as embarrassed as I was. But Gideon, when he spoke, sounded nonchalant and almost indecently cheerful.

  “Good for you! Let’s eat, shall we?”

  We sat at a long table, on handmade cane seats that were cooler than anything else would have been. Camilla was annoyed because, while her brother sat at the top of the table, Julie had placed herself firmly at the foot with her usual giggle.

  “I always act as hostess for Gideon whenever I’m here,” she explained to us all at large.

  It didn’t worry me a great deal, because I was sitting next to Joseph and he was a much easier companion than the others.

  A moth, larger than any I had seen before, swooped over the table toward Julie. She screamed very daintily and Gideon leapt to his feet and flicked his napkin at the winged creature. The attraction of Julie’s hair was too much for it, though, and it settled on the top of her head.

  “Keep quite still!” Gideon commanded.

  But Julie was beyond doing anything of the sort. With frenzied movements she tore at her hair, unable to dislodge the moth and sobbing audibly as she gulped rather than breathed. Camilla watched her with indecent enjoyment.

  “I should have thought,” she said in clear, young tones, “that someone so accustomed to India would have been able to deal with a moth!”

  “Shut up!” Gideon said tautly.

  “Well, really, it’s quite harmless!” Camilla argued placidly. “Why don’t you scoop it into a glass?”

  Gideon looked decidedly put out.

  “I don’t want to muss Julie’s hairstyle,” he said helplessly.

  Camilla looked hard and long at them both. “Would it matter?” she asked lazily.

  It is difficult to say who was the angrier, Gideon or Julie.

  “I hate your sister!” the girl sobbed hysterically.

  “I’m not surprised!” Gideon agreed grimly. And then, quite suddenly, his lips began to quiver and his laughter rang through the house.

  “I’ll never forgive you! Never. Never!” Julie stormed at him.

  I felt decidedly sorry for her. Because I was not in the least afraid of flying things myself, I went over to her and picked the moth up by the tips of its wings and put it firmly outside.

  “You ought to do something to keep them out,” I said to Gideon.

  “Are you always so calm and collected?” he asked me softly.

  I shook my head, suddenly tongue-tied. He was very charming when he wanted to be—too charming for my comfort!

  “Well, we can all be grateful to you this evening at least,” he went on. Deftly, he encouraged Julie back into her seat, smoothing down her hair with gentle but efficient fingers. “Let’s get on with dinner, shall we?”

  We all sat down again, trying not to notice the red, swollen eyes of Julie Burnett. Only Gideon paid her much attention, listening to her weak jokes and urging her on with such blatant flattery that my respect for him zoomed down to zero again.

  “Is she here often?” I asked Joseph in an undertone.

  For some reason he colored slightly.

  “A fair amount. We provide most of the entertainment hereabouts.” He smiled quickly as if he were afraid of what I was thinking. “She only has time for Gideon.”

  Camilla frowned at him across the table and he blushed to the ears, realizing that the whole table had probably heard what he said.

  “What I mean is that you’ll be pretty busy,” he went on desperately.

  “And me?” Camilla asked him coolly.

  “Ssh!” said Joseph.

  Julie Burnett became suddenly aware that something was going on. She stopped fussing with her face and hair and glared at Camilla.

  “Gideon always said you were a spoiled brat, but I don’t care what you say. A silly little chit of a girl doesn’t bother me!”

  I glanced sharply at Gideon.

  “That’s enough,” he snapped. “This was meant to be a pleasant occasion. I guess the heat is getting the better of us. Camilla, ring the bell and clear the soup plates. Perhaps the heat of Gobal’s curry will cool us all down.”

  The curry was very hot and the meat was tough. I ate slowly, washing it down with some of the buttermilk that was on the table. Unexpectedly, I liked it.

  I was glad when the meal was over and Gideon and Julie went out on the verandah to sit by the oil lamps glowing in the dark and gossip about the days they had spent apart. Joseph excused himself by saying he had to work, and I dragged Camilla off to our own house while the going was good.

  “I suppose they’re all right alone,” she said wistfully.

  “They’ll manage,” I agreed heartlessly.

  “You mean she will! Suki, we’ll have to do something about that blue-haired doll.”

  “But what?” I asked.

  Camilla put on a scheming expression and I knew she was beginning to enjoy herself.

  “We’ll think of something,” she said sweetly.

  Lakshmi had turned down my bed. Apart from the cover there were two natural-colored cotton sheets stretched over the thin khaki mattress. A single uns
haded electric bulb hung from the ceiling and buzzed at intervals as the voltage changed. I had been accustomed to some discomfort all the time I had been studying, but this, coupled with my weariness of mind and body, was enough to reduce me to tears.

  I undressed slowly, because I was still unaccustomed to the stuffy heat. The storm had started up again and I could feel its electricity prickling my skin. In a peculiar way it was exciting and I was sure that sleep would be a long time coming even when I had got into that uncomfortable bed. But I had underrated my tiredness. All I could remember was that the bed was not nearly as bad as I expected, and then I was heavily and dreamlessly asleep.

  When I awoke it was pitch black. I lay on my back and listened to the peculiar sounds of the Indian night. The curious scratching noise of some insect on the ceiling, the wild howling of some large cat outside the settlement, and a variety of undertones, all so different from the softer nights I was accustomed to at home. I turned my pillow over, looking for coolness, and was surprised to hear the sound of the jeep going towards the main house. As it passed, the yellow headlights came flooding through the windows onto my bed and passed on again. I glanced briefly at my watch. It was a little after three o’clock. I supposed bleakly that it was Gideon returning from seeing his girl-friend home. And a fine time of night it was, too! I thought crossly, and then berated myself for being narrow-minded. But even so, I couldn’t believe that he would be really fit to do much work in the morning.