He took up his pen and again drew his paper towards him.
‘I will postpone writing to Mount Bellew and Dissham, but I must get a letter off to old Chalmers in Calcutta. They say mail will be despatched as soon as Colin Campbell reaches us, and I want to arrange everything possible for you, Jessie and the baby, Laura. I have already written to my bankers and ordered them to make out a draft payable to you for all expenses. Chalmers will see to it that you find berths on a good ship. I’ll leave it to him to decide whether the Cape route or overland will be better. You and Jessie are going to need clothing and so on, so I suggest you spend a few weeks with the Chalmers’s, resting and buying what you need. I’m sure they’ll be happy to have you for as long as need be. Hospitable people, and after all …’
‘We will be survivors!’ I ended with a sigh.
Charles bent to his work, and I again made an effort to compose my mind to correspondence.
It would be spring, more likely early summer, in England when we arrived. I made myself remember the woods around Mount Bellew; new leaves in the chilly air, primroses spilling down the banks, bluebells in the hazel thickets and, later, summer fields starred with daisies and buttercups. Hackneyed things, however lovely—the type of memories that genteel expatriate females write poems about for inclusion in the pious pages of The Quiver. The reality of existence in England, even my own existence, would not return to my mind. Yet, that was what I wanted: calm, secure, prosaic England, where I could take myself, my surroundings, my way of life, all for granted. England, where there would be no need to keep my inner forces eternally mustered to battle with the climate, the language, the customs and prejudices and the cruelties of a strange place and a strange race. All I wanted was to sink back into long-accustomed, unthinking, comfortable routine.
But a strange thing happened. When I tried to remember what that accustomed routine had been, I found myself instead back in the routine, very vividly remembered, of the Hassanganj day: the early morning tea on the verandah, the rides, the Urdu lessons, overseeing, with Emily, the running of the house, meals in the stately dining-room, reading at night under the chandelier in the drawing-room with Oliver Erskine opposite me, absorbed in his book.
I pulled myself together. That had gone. The Hassanganj I had known could never now be re-experienced. And the Mount Bellew I had known? Could that be rediscovered? Would I really be able to settle down to being my aunt’s dependable right hand again—for with Emily dead, it was unlikely that I would be allowed to leave the house and find a position, as I used to tell myself I some day would. Was dull, pedestrian England, the England of small towns and kindly unimaginative people that I knew, really going to suffice me for the rest of my days? Could I ever submerge the self that had appeared in India, and become again the dutiful, grateful, philosophic poor relation that I once had been?
‘I wonder,’ I said to no one in particular, ‘will they find us very changed? When we get home?’
‘Aye! Aye! Unco’ changed,’ nodded Jessie sagely without glancing up from her knitting. ‘Ye were a bonnie bittie lass a twelvemonth since, Miss Laura, and now ye are a woman grown in heart and soul!’
‘How do you know that, Jess?’ I smiled. ‘A good rest and a bath or two, and perhaps no one will know what I’ve been through.’
‘No, no! ’Tis plain to the blindest eye that ye are no thoughtless lass now.’
‘But I never was a thoughtless lass,’ I protested with some indignation.
‘Maybe no’, but then ye didna think o’ the same things, nor in the same ways.’
That at least was true, and when I found Charles watching me intently, I blushed as I remembered some of the things I used to think about.
Kate leaned her elbows on the table, put her chin on her hands and gazed dreamily at the smoke-grimed wall.
‘Indeed, and which of us will ever be the same again? These months will be … well, like a sort of watershed, will they not? A barrier in our lives, over which we’ve had to struggle and which will always separate what we were from what we have become. Perhaps every life has to meet some such moment of truth, some point when direction and energy are all diverted into unforeseen channels and we are forced into becoming, if not new people, at least different people.’
‘A point of rest? In a lifetime … in a character?’ The idea pleased me. The notion that events might sometimes be focused—like a burning glass—to a point where an inner and vital transmutation was inevitable.
‘A wha’?’ queried Jess.
‘A point of rest. That feature in a painting to which one’s eyes are first and most immediately drawn. The focal point of the composition. Everything else radiates out from it or, conversely, appears to lead to it. I wonder … will this little room, smoky, dark, smelly, full of insects and discomforts, will it eventually prove to have been the “point of rest” of my life? When I am an old lady, on my deathbed perhaps, will it be this small space I remember most vividly, more vividly than Mount Bellew or Genoa, or Hassanganj, or all the other places I will by then have seen?’
‘Praise be, an’ it’s been a safe refuge to us a’!’ Jessie said gravely, more at home, in her sane way, with practicalities than philosophizing.
A safe refuge. Yes, that it had been for all of us but one. But had the tiny room defended me from anything but physical injury? I had seen too much of death to value my own life lightly, yet that night I began to wonder whether I had not lost something that was of even more importance than life. Put baldly, the words seem—and are—melodramatic. I had discovered during the past months that, no matter how painful the physical support of life may be, living is always worthwhile. One of the sharpest sorrows I had known was that I had not discerned Mr Roberts’s failing confidence in his own capacity for life, had failed to try to imbue him with something of my own hard-won but robust hopefulness. Losing Oliver Erskine would not kill me; would not even make me wish to die. But I was afraid of the long struggle that must ensue to adapt myself once again to living without receiving, or being able to give, love. No, I did not want to die! But only God and I can ever know how little I wanted to live a loveless life.
I found myself longing, suddenly, for Oliver’s presence. I looked at my watch. After eight o’clock; surely he must be almost finished with his stint in the mines? He was bound to call in before long. I strained my ears for his step, and joyfully heard a brisk masculine tread mount the steps to the verandah. In my happy expectation, I had almost risen to welcome him, when instead of Oliver, Toddy-Bob, with a large grin on his equine face, his boot-button eyes snapping with excitement, hurried in exclaiming, ‘Miss Laura, Mr Charles, sir … there’s a beacon been lit at the Alum Bagh. You can see it from the walls. Sir Colin’s arrived and safely! ’Tis a rare fine sight. Do all come out and see it!’
His enthusiasm was not to be gainsaid, although the night was cold. We grabbed shawls and cloaks and followed him into the darkness, through the ruined buildings to a vantage point on the old stockade.
Appearing almost close in the sharp clear air, the beacon blinked in blue flame from the top of the Alum Bagh Palace.
Half-an-hour’s ride away, somewhere among the ancient trees that surrounded the palace, Sir Colin perhaps was watching our answering beacon aflame on the top of the tower of the Resident’s House, while round him his troops, six thousand of them it was said, pitched their tents, and fed their mounts, cleaned their weapons and discussed the battle yet to come. Half an hour’s ride away lay deliverance.
I felt a lump rise in my throat and noticed everyone had fallen silent. Then someone raised a thin cheer from those of us who had ventured into the cold night and bothered to view the beacon. ‘Not long now,’ an elderly man muttered near me. ‘By God, it won’t be long now!’
‘I tol’ you it was a fine sight!’ Toddy reminded us triumphantly, almost as though the beacon was all his own invention. Then, after enquiring whether we could find our way back to the Gaol, he took himself off on his own pursuits.
Some of us lingered on the wall, for despite the cold it was a fine night, crackling with starlight. The blue flame among the distant trees held our attention as it rose, then flickered and fell, to rise again with a sudden flare.
It was the first time I had been out in deep night since the beginning of the siege. Intrigued by the novelty, I walked a little way from the others, looking down, not into the city beyond the walls, but at the entrenchment lying quiet within them.
We had long been short of candles and oil for lamps, and the enclosure lay in almost total darkness, with only here and there a glimmer from a saucer dip brightening a window frame. The tumbled remnants of the buildings, bulked against each other in the darkness, gave an impression of solidity and strength denied them in the light of day.
The enemy’s fire was so sporadic that it could be disregarded, and the scene below me, dim and disguised, was one of peace. Men went about their business quietly, moving guns and supplies, seeing to their weapons or just gossiping with friends as they chewed on empty pipestems. For a while I stood and watched the quiet movements, then, hugging my shawl around me, turned and clambered along the parapet to a higher point which would afford a better view.
I picked my way for some distance along the shot-step of a fairly long stretch of uninterrupted wall, and then found it would be easier to descend at the point I had reached than to retrace my steps to my companions. I could not hear their voices and, looking back into the darkness, realized that I would not be able to see them even had they not returned to our quarters. Before me a few broken steps led to the ground, and once down I paused to get my bearings. The area was uncommonly deserted and I realized I must have headed towards the river and perhaps was now near one of the far batteries deemed useless and abandoned when General Outram enlarged the perimeter. The ground was hazardous with rubble, brick shards and stones.
Carefully I walked towards the outline of an unlit but substantial-looking building and, as I did so, heard a fall of gravel behind me. No one had been near me on the wall. Certainly no one could have watched me descend the steps to the ground. Alarmed, however, in spite of myself, I stopped and cast a glance over my shoulder; but only darkness and the jagged silhouette of the wall against the sky met my eyes. Again I started off, with senses alert to every sound. I had progressed but a few steps when again I heard the clink of stone against stone behind me. I did not pause, but hurried on, casting about for some sign of a path that would make my walking easier. There could be no doubt that I was being followed. I could hear footsteps, no longer stealthy, and quickened my own. I was in the shadow of a ruined stable. I could see the stalls for the horses, but the gates had been wrenched away for firewood and the beams of the roof had fallen in, bringing their burden of thatch with them. For a moment I wondered whether it would serve if I ran in and crouched in the depths of the debris until my pursuer had passed, but common sense told me he was too close. I broke into a stumbling run and had reached the end of the building when he caught me.
A heavy hand clutched at my shoulder and spun me round. I almost fell, but found myself caught up and looking into the leering, ugly face of Corporal Alfred Tuppit.
Immediately I hit out with both my fists, though it would have been more sensible if I had screamed. The man was strong and had no difficulty in imprisoning both my hands behind my back with one of his. I writhed and wrenched and kicked out at him, but my old worn slippers had no power to hurt.
‘Well now, you’re a proper smart one, ain’t you? Thought you’d played me a fine trick in the ’ospital, didn’t you, with your little tin and your insec’ and all? But you’re goin’ to find out your mistake now, missie. Alf Tuppit don’t like bein’ made a fool of, leastways not by a frozen-faced uppity young woman like you. Goin’ to take real pleasure in givin’ you what you deserve, young miss, and right now!’ His voice was thick with drink and he smelt abominably of liquor and sweat.
‘Take your dirty hands off me, Tuppit!’ I said breathlessly. ‘You can’t get away with this. I know your name and everyone knows what a thieving, lying fraud you are. Let me go!’ I spoke aloud, which offended the gentleman, who had whispered himself, and he clapped his free hand over my mouth.
‘Never you fear. You’ll not tell anyone anythin’—not by the time I’ve finished with you, you won’t. Been followin’ you I ’ave, ever since you went up on the wall back there. You played right into my ’ands, comin’ along all this way by yourself.’
He laughed in my face and the fumes from his breath sickened me. Gagged by his hand, I could use only my eyes and ears to help myself.
Not a light was visible, but I thought I could hear voices far off, men’s voices and a child crying. Perhaps we were near the lines occupied by the loyal sepoys. If I could hear them, then they could hear me. Fear lent me strength. I jerked back my head from the imprisoning hand and managed to scream ‘Help! Help me!’ twice before Tuppit silenced me again. His small eyes were furious and he swore at me, snarling like an ill-tempered bazaar pi-dog. ‘By God! You won’t want to scream again, not for a whiles you won’t!’ And he hooked his foot behind my ankles and threw me to the ground.
Even in my alarm, I knew the voices in the distance had stopped. Had they merely moved away, or was someone listening for my scream to be repeated? Frantically I struggled with the man above me, feeling the sharp masonry cut into the flesh of my back and arms. Then, why I do not know, Tuppit’s grip on my mouth relaxed for a second and immediately I sank my teeth into his dirty flesh and bit with all my might. He let go, cursing, taking a swipe at my head as he did so, and gave me a savage blow across the ear. I was too busy screaming at the top of my lungs to notice the blow at the time, and finding his grip on me had loosened, I struggled to my knees, still screeching hysterically.
Running footsteps approached, and voices. I screamed louder and Tuppit struck me again as I knelt there, then made off into the darkness. But I could not stop screaming.
‘Laura! Laura! My God, what has happened? Laura, it’s me, Charles. It’s all right now, Laura. All right, I’m here.’
‘Charles! Oh, Charles, Charles!’ was all I could sob. He raised me gently to my feet and put his arms around my shoulders; my screams gave way to gasping sobs and the sobs to tears.
When at last I calmed sufficiently to know what was happening, I found four or five other men had gathered around, their curious eyes taking in my dishevelled hair and disarranged clothing.
‘Come now,’ Charles soothed me. ‘You’ll be better off in the quarters. Can you walk? It’s all right, gentlemen, this lady has had a fright of some sort, but I’ll get her back to her people now.’
We moved away, the men remaining in a little group to watch us go. We were much further from the Gaol than I had realized, almost at the northernmost edge of the perimeter, and it was not surprising that the area had been almost deserted. We walked slowly, Charles’s arm supporting me, and as we went I sobbed out my story.
‘I became anxious about you after a time,’ he said when I had finished, ‘and went back up the wall to fetch you in. I had seen you wander along in this direction and thought you might have lost your way back, since you cannot be familiar with this section. I could not have been too far behind you but I did not see you at all, and if you had not screamed, I would have returned to the Gaol expecting to find you there before me.’
‘Oh, thank God you didn’t go back, Charles, and thank you, my dear. I was never so frightened before. It … it was horrible, horrible … the feeling of helplessness!’
‘Don’t dwell on it now, it’s done with, and I can fix that brute, I think, without your name being brought into the matter. He has a bad name, as you well know.’
‘But what can be done to him?’
‘Nothing very much, I’m afraid, this time. A few lashes at most, I suppose. I don’t want you mentioned and I don’t suppose you do either—your name would have to come into it if he were had up on a charge of attempted rape. There’s be
en too much of this sort of thing going on. I believe a certain amount of summary justice without too much enquiry will suit the authorities. They’ll be glad to make an example of Tuppit.’
‘But what’s to stop him mentioning my name,’ I asked nervously. ‘Telling everyone it was me?’
The thought of the satisfaction the wretched man would have in boasting and no doubt exaggerating the extent, of what he had done to me, filled me with repugnance.
‘Don’t worry, we’ll ensure that he holds his tongue, and is uncommonly willing to do so too. You’ve nothing more to fear from him, Laura, I promise you.’
I was far from reassured, but it was necessary that Tuppit should be dealt with for the sake of the other women in the entrenchment, if for no other reason.
‘I cannot object, I suppose, if my name does come out,’ I admitted. ‘After all, it was my own fault in a way, first for putting that wretched scorpion in his bed and then for wandering off alone when I knew that … that such things were taking place. But I never dreamed … I couldn’t have guessed …’
‘Your name will not be mentioned, Laura, I promise you, And the brute will get some, at least, of his just deserts. That too I can promise you.’
As it happened, I never did hear more of the matter and forbore from questioning Charles regarding it. No doubt, as happened at that time, condign punishment was meted out without formality or delay, and perhaps the threat of court martial or even the loss of his single stripe, was sufficient to ensure Tuppit’s silence.
We had reached the Gaol, but I was reluctant to go inside and face Kate and Jessie with my tear-smudged face and telltale clothing. We sat down on the lowest step of the flight leading up to the verandah, and I tried to tidy myself. Charles’s arm was still about my shoulders and I was glad of it. I leaned against him gratefully and for a moment put my aching head on his shoulder.
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