The death of a soldier, and the realisation that his parents would receive the news at the same time as the cheerful letter she had written for him made Margaret feel particularly low. She was grateful to be asked to go roller skating by some of the nurses. Her usefulness on the wards and obvious education led to an increasing number of invitations to join them. Their jolly company helped to fill the lonely hours without the children.
The Flatt, on the Northern side of Lake Naini, was a popular place for recreation with a thriving market and famous boat house as well as the roller skating rink. Margaret laced up the skates and timorously stepped out, held up by her colleagues. Eventually she wobbled after them jerking her arms mechanically or whirling them madly, trying to emulate their fluid movements. She was beginning to make progress when her legs were knocked from behind and she landed on the rink with a painful thump.
A dark haired man gallantly helped her up. She took a steady look at him. Beneath his tan, lines of fatigue creased the skin at the corners of his brown eyes. Margaret intended to tick him off but he got in first, “That’s what you get for messing about with soldiers on horse back.”
“Excuse me! I’ve got better things to do with my time!”
“My heart is broken! I can see you’ve forgotten me.”
“Forgotten you?” Margaret searched her memory without any luck.
“The last time I was in Nainital you almost unseated me… riding off with hardly a backward glance.”
“Gosh was that you? It was yonks ago! I bet you were sore for days.”
“More like weeks!”
“Well if it’s any consolation I was reported and fined.”
“Serves you right… I’m not sure I should introduce myself to a law breaker. By the way I’m Tommy.”
“A likely story… Every man in the British army is called Tommy.”
He laughed, “It’s true! I’m with the Bush Warfare School.”
She quipped, “I’ve heard you have to be slightly mad to be with them. Well Tommy I’m Margaret… Margaret Atrey” she said, as the other girls skated towards them. She introduced him.
He said “I’m hoping if I teach your friend to skate, she’ll teach me to ride”
They told him she was pretty hopeless. Some of them had to go on duty so they couldn’t wait. He wanted to start immediately. Margaret agreed so they left them to it.
“I hope you know what you’re taking on” she said.
“That’s the fun. I don’t.”
After an hour spent teaching her with nothing to show for it except bumps and bruises Tommy said, “Look, we don’t seem to be having much luck with the roller-skating. Why don’t we give it a rest and go to the mess? “
“That’s a bit rich. You’re just ashamed to be seen with such useless skater in front of your friends.”
“Not so. You’re the best looking nurse on the rink. It’s a pity you can’t stay on your feet long enough to prove it.”
She drank gin fizz for the first time. Tommy was entranced and told her he’d never met a girl like her but Margaret didn’t feel like a girl. There were days when she felt a thousand years old. Tommy made her keep their pact and she arranged to go riding with him the next day.
* * * * *
They rode out as often as they could. Tommy had been in India almost as long as Margaret. He had arrived via Gibraltar with the Kings Own Yorkshire Light Infantry in 1936, and within months was attached to the Burmese militia. In and out of Burma, he’d been recruited by the Bush Warfare School. Since then he’d spent most of his time in the jungle. He’d left a fiancée behind in England. She’d married his best friend. Away from home for five years, he didn’t blame her.
“That’s war for you” Margaret said, telling him how she missed Ben and the children.
She was in a quandary. Surely there could be nothing wrong in enjoying Tommy’s friendship? Then why did she have scruples when he asked her to spend a whole day with him?
They set off by car to explore lofty Naina Peak, climbing the first quarter of a mile on foot through the shade of tall trees, the heavy green canopy lit by the plumage of gaudy birds. Putting on warm jackets they ventured higher into more rugged mountainous terrain. The high altitude made the going tough and Margaret rested on a pile of boulders looking down the mountainside where the land basked in the warmth of the afternoon. Tommy climbed higher calling her to follow him. She scrambled up to see the awesome Himalayas ranged along the horizon, their snow capped peaks tinged pink by the rays of the sun.
“Margaret I’m leaving tomorrow. I want you to know you’ve got me through a difficult patch in my life…” The air between them was electric. “I can’t go without telling you. I love you. I didn’t mean to. It started out as a bit of a lark to get my own back… If you weren’t married…” He pulled her closer, kissing her.
“Tommy don’t…” she said breaking away, but the enjoyment of the lingering kiss pricked her conscience. If things were different, well who knows? Always happy in his company she instinctively trusted him. His posting was a blessing, removing temptation, but the brightness in her life was going with him.
She couldn’t let him walk away and agreed he could contact her through the army, making it plain they could only be friends. They shook hands at the door of Barum Cottage. Margaret was ashamed to admit she wanted more.
Chapter 21
A fleeting return to Aakesh
Margaret thought the infrequency of Ben’s letters was caused by the war but the tone had changed. Surely he couldn’t have found out about Tommy? It was a friendship but the kiss… Ben couldn’t possibly know its effect.
Cut off from the children, Margaret wrote regularly to Suleka and Ben’s mother asking for news of them. She also sent advice for the care of the animals, work in the fields and maintenance of the English House. Suleka replied briefly saying that the children were in good health and getting on with their studies at home.
A letter from Ben asking Margaret to sort out the children’s formal education quelled any worries. She was to search out prestigious schools for Pavia and Saurabh. High ranking British and Indians frequenting Nainital were rich enough to pay and the schools reflected this. Why hadn’t she thought of it before? She’d bring the three children here! She was baffled by Ben’s other suggestion, that she qualify as a nurse once the older children were settled in school.
It couldn’t have been more opportune. Margaret was due some leave and had a trunk ready packed with presents, sweets for the children, and a warm winter coat for her mother-in-law, tea for Suleka and token gifts for everyone else. She threw in a copy of bank transactions at the last minute for Hiten’s scrutiny.
* * * * *
Pavia and Saurabh competed to be near their mother, pushing each other out of the way until she made them stop. Little Rajeev appeared slightly confused. Poor thing, Margaret wasn’t certain he knew who she was. She bowed to pay respect to Ben’s mother who neatly side-stepped on the pretext of talking to a servant. The attendant was shocked by the rebuff. The Memsahib’s kindness and generosity were well known. He valued his position so his face portrayed nothing. Neither did Margaret’s.
Hiten, bolstered by his mother-in-law’s actions, accused Margaret of discrepancies in the accounts. There had been another letter from the magistrate! He could find no record of the fine being paid. Was it because she intended to continue ruining the family name? He’d written to Ben.
“You have no right!”
“I have every right. Vidyaaranya, or as you call him Ben, has given me power of attorney. After all I am a lawyer. Long before you arrived I was running the family finances.”
“Still you should have written to me, not my husband.”
“Write to you! May the Gods forbid that I am answerable to you! There are many changes in the arrangements for the est
ates. The common people attending the animals remain. The servants in this main house obey our respected mother’s instructions.”
“And in the English House?”
“Dismissed…” He said cynically, “All is agreed. We need to use money wisely if the children are to be educated.”
Margaret was livid. On the surface it seemed a reasonable proposition but what if this boldness meant Hiten knew of some weakening in Ben’s affection? It was too awful to contemplate.
Rajeev edged his older brother out of the way, snuggling close sing-songing “Mama, mama…” Margaret took him by the hand and, leaving the meal uneaten, with her older children following, withdrew to the English House.
The red and black tiled entrance was dull and neglected. Cobwebs crisscrossed the corners of the rooms. Dried curled leaves carpeted the floor, blown in where a shutter hung open. Rajeev watched Pavia and Saurabh kick their way through the piles of leaves filling the air with dust.
Margaret went through the rooms. Drawers were half opened, their contents rifled through. There didn’t appear to be anything missing. This wasn’t the work of djinns or the petty theft of disgruntled servants. It was much more menacing than that. Thank goodness Muni was out of this. The English House was being left to decay and in this climate would quickly become uninhabitable.
Saurabh checked under his bed. His boxes of toy soldiers were where he’d left them. He was quickly engrossed in lining them up to fight.
Pavia’s room was also undisturbed. She blew the dust off the book cover of the Naughtiest Girl, sent by her Aunt Jean, and settled down with it like a forgotten friend.
Later, with the children sleeping beside her in the marital bed, Margaret tried to put her emotions to one side. One night in Aakesh was enough. She couldn’t stay. There was no hint in Ben’s letters of what awaited her. Did he know, or was this the way he intended her to find out? Either way Hiten’s control was established with or without Ben’s consent. Powdered glass in her food could be his next move.
Rajeev’s curls and Pavia’s long hair were entwined on the pillow, one black the other brown. Saurabh sprawled across the bed. Independent and proud even in sleep; so like his father.
And Tommy, where did he fit in? The children would always be first and what ever the state of her marriage she must keep them close while their father was out of the country. Schooling provided the perfect excuse. Hiten couldn’t object to that. She’d show him Ben’s letter, say they had places, drop a few names and tell him her leave expired at midnight. She fell to sleep making lists of things to take to Nainital in the morning.
Chapter 22
Nainital
A suitable elitist school was no problem but Barum cottage proved too small to house an extra child, servants and provide adequate space for study. Margaret found the ideal bungalow in its own ground on a hillside overlooking the town. On such a peaceful morning it was difficult to believe the disruption facing India. Margaret opened the Times. Gandhi was grabbing the headlines again. He had been arrested with other national leaders the day after Congress passed the ‘Quit India’ resolution and, since then, held in Aga Khan Palace Jail. The article went on to say that he was fasting in protest at the British occupation. Didn’t he know there was a war on? Indian troops were dying in defence of the very country he was trying to break away from. Margaret shook the paper and turned the page, searching for news of the North African campaign.
Ben’s dutiful letters were short and business like. It was hurtful but she was confident they would work things out when he returned to India. He mentioned Tobruk, El Alamein and fighting Italians. He’d been decorated but didn’t say what for. She’d have liked to have had more details to tell the children. She was always talking to them about their father, preparing them for his return. Margaret prayed he was safe but after such a long separation Ben was no longer the focus of everyday life.
Events closer to home were more worrying. The Japanese had swept through Asia taking Singapore, forcing the British to withdraw from Burma. The entire East was imperilled. In the tranquil garden, with the children in school and Rajeev playing, war seemed so far away. Tommy was in the thick of it. She wouldn’t know if he lived or died but couldn’t forget him.
She casually opened a hand-delivered letter brought by the houseboy. It contained a summons to attend the Magistrates court. A British woman enrolling children in a prestigious school was a regular occurrence but a British woman alone, with an Indian husband, was bound to arouse interest. Someone had capitalized on it.
British men who took Indian mistresses were viewed as rather risqué but it was socially acceptable, provided they were discrete. Legitimate marriage was rare and so far Margaret hadn’t come across another British woman married to an Indian. The injustice and hypocrisy in both societies always made her angry. She took up her pen and wrote to the District Commissioner.
Dear Sir,
I request your just intervention in a decree issued against me some years ago. My husband, Captain Atrey, is on active service in the Middle East and has been away from India for a number of years without leave. At his request I have been working as a volunteer helping to nurse the British troops recuperating here, travelling between Nainital and Aakesh the family home. At present my children accompany me and are in school.
I am being harassed for the non-payment of a fine of 25 rupees in connection with an allegation that some years ago, I cantered on a horse down Mall Road breaking a byelaw. I considered the fine to be excessive and intended to write to you at that time. However I had to return urgently to the plains and the incident slipped my mind. I recently returned to put my children into school and resume my work as a volunteer nurse.
The complainant, a Mr Mehte, has exaggerated an incident when, as a novice rider, I returned by horseback to Barum Cottage, which, as no doubt you are aware, is situated on Mall road. Taking into consideration the number of people who do go very recklessly on horseback, I consider it most unfair that I have been picked out from the crowd. I wish you to take account of my husband’s services and those of myself in the W.V.S and accept my apology.
I thank you for what I am sure will be your worthy consideration of my position with regards to this unfortunate incident.
Yours faithfully
Margaret Atrey
She sealed the envelope with a flourish. India had taught Margaret many things including how to effectively slice through bureaucracy and deal with paper tigers.
The letter wasn’t a lie, more a convenient distortion of the facts and gave her something to do. She was bored with her own company, besides which she felt useless lazing around with so many injured men flooding the military hospital. Ben’s plan that she should train as a nurse held some appeal. The only drawback was leaving Rajeev with his ayah for long periods, but at least they would be together. She resumed voluntary work to see how things went.
* * * * *
The ayah was doing a splendid job but Pavia and Saurabh were rebelling against the restrictions of school. Margaret was requested to meet the Mother Superior on more than one occasion to discuss their behaviour. This made no impression on the arrogant children who claimed, in their defence, that the other pupils taunted them. Saurabh said fiercely, “They say we are British. We’re not. We’re Indian.”
“And they won’t do what we tell them so Saurabh beats them up.”
Margaret tried to explain that, unlike Aakesh, at school the pupils were equal. This reasoning was nonsense to Saurabh and Pavia.
Reverend Mother’s patience was sorely tried but the children’s charm saved them. She had a soft spot for Saurabh with his exceptional intellect and appealing smile. What would become of him and his sister if the Japanese invaded India or the British left? Their mother would be in a perilous position. The Irish nun was impressed by the charity of this woman who found good in people, irrespective o
f their race or religious belief. The children attended mass as if they were good Catholics. It was possible their souls would be saved, but their mother lacked contrition and without it she was damned.
The nun tried to dissuade Margaret from seeing troops unaccompanied while undertaking welfare work. She cautioned that this might put temptation in the way of young men who had been away from home for so long. Margaret scoffed at the possibility. She was simply doing her duty.
The soldiers nicknamed Margaret ‘Scottie’ and were grateful for the unstinting work she did in supporting them. Some men had left for India missing the birth of their youngest child. One asked what she missed about Scotland, “Not the children” she said, “mine are with me but lots of things, the smell of the sea carried on the cold wind, the soft rain of spring and the stinging whipped rain of winter. Most of all I miss the sound of my mother’s voice and the touch of her hand on my forehead.” Married or single, child-free or parent, the general assent of the men drew them together.
* * * * *
A soldier wounded in Burma arrived on the ward. Margaret asked if he’d come across a Sergeant Waters. “Have I? . . . I almost stood on him lying in the undergrowth. He gave me a poke in the ribs with his rifle. Pardon me nurse but I nearly shot my lot. Then I made out the whites of his eyes and stupid grin. Poor sods, they’ve got their work cut out. I don’t think they’ll all come back, but I hope he bloody does. I’ve got to get my own back on that bugger!”
Margaret’s worries were insignificant compared to the increased suffering she witnessed daily. Off duty she dropped in at the mess. It was good to have some light-hearted contact with adults. A group of squaddies loitering outside made lewd comments, offering ‘to see she was alright’, nudging and winking at each other. Their leering made her blush so they did it all the more. They’d be posted out pretty soon so it wasn’t worth making a fuss, but she stopped going.
The Letter Page 11