by RV Raman
‘Welcome! Welcome to Greybrooke Manor.’ He thrust out a long arm and shook Athreya’s hand heartily. ‘I hope you had a good journey?’
‘Thank you,’ Athreya replied with a wide smile. ‘Yes, the journey was fine, and I’m delighted to be here. Thank you for inviting me. A quaint place you have here.’
‘Wonderful, wonderful.’ Bhaskar exclaimed, still shaking Athreya’s hand. ‘Dora look after you well, eh?’
‘Very well. She and Manu have been entertaining me from the moment they picked me up. I think I know every spot worth knowing between here and Crown Bakery. And she insisted on giving me a drink as soon as we got here.’
‘Wonderful, wonderful.’ Bhaskar repeated and let go of Athreya’s hand. He wrinkled his nose theatrically.
‘From this bar?’ he queried.
‘We went to the hilltop, too,’ Dora piped in quickly, avoiding the last question. ‘Mr. Athreya loved it.’
‘He did, eh?’ Bhaskar’s brilliant eyes were studying Athreya, assessing him. ‘Did it touch him?’
‘It did. See, I’m not the only one who senses things there. He did too.’
‘I know, girl. Your aunt used to feel it too…every time. She and I used to go up there every so often. There were times it touched me, too.’ He turned to his niece and continued in a more serious tone. ‘Sebastian tells me that you escaped a landslide by a whisker. Thank goodness! How bad is it?’
‘I didn’t see it, Uncle. I was driving, and the landslide happened behind us. Manu was sitting at the back and saw the whole thing. He should be able to tell you.’
‘Can’t seem to find him,’ Bhaskar grumbled. ‘Anyway, he’ll soon be here.’
‘I saw a bit of it,’ Athreya chimed in. ‘Manu shone a torch at the landslide. It actually happened in two parts, less than a minute apart. The first slide was smaller, the mass of earth that was dislodged being twice the length of this room and twenty-thirty yards wide.
‘Then came the second, which was far larger. This one covered the entire road and spilt over downhill. Two big trees came crashing down a dozen yards behind us, accompanied by a lot more rocks and soil. The noise was deafening. That’s when Dora rushed us away from there. I’m not sure how much more came down, but I looked back as we took the curve in the road. The mass seemed much wider than it first was–perhaps a hundred yards wide. It was difficult to make out much in the dark, but the dust cloud was massive.’
‘A hundred yards, eh?’ Bhaskar’s eyes glazed over in contemplation. ‘That’s going to take a few days to clear–’
He broke off as Manu and Sebastian walked into the room. At a touch of the console and with a reflexive twist of the joystick, Bhaskar turned the wheelchair to face the newcomers.
‘There you are, Manu,’ he said. ‘Mr. Athreya tells me that the landslide might have been as much as a hundred yards wide.’
‘That’s right,’ Manu nodded. ‘It was a big one.’ He went on to narrate what he had seen.
‘Hmm,’ Bhaskar rumbled. ‘It’ll take a few days to clear it. I hope the road isn’t too damaged. Are we stocked adequately, Sebastian? Nobody can come or leave, except the others down the vale.’ He threw a quick glance at Athreya, and said, as if to clarify, ‘The valley is cut off.’
‘We are well stocked, Mr. Fernandez,’ Sebastian confirmed. ‘We can easily last for a couple of weeks. But we may have to be careful with the diesel for the generator.’
‘Do what it takes, Sebastian. Don’t get bullied into switching on more lights than necessary. And make sure that the generator doesn’t run for more than twelve hours a day.’ He turned to Athreya with an apology. ‘I’m sorry about this, Mr. Athreya. I hope it won’t inconvenience you too much. I don’t think it will affect your comfort. We can light an old-fashioned fire in your fireplace if your room gets too cold. There is no shortage of wood.’
Before Athreya could respond, Bhaskar turned back to Sebastian and went on, ‘Go there in the morning and make a first-hand assessment. See what the Roads Department has to say about how long it’ll take to fix it. In any case, from what Manu and Mr Athreya say, it’s going to take a few days…’
Bhaskar lapsed into silence, frowning like a grumpy bear, sinking his chin into his chest. Such was the presence and personality of the man that none of the others, including Athreya, spoke for a long time. Bhaskar was thinking; he would soon have something more to add. Instinctively, they waited. Athreya took the opportunity to study the man.
White and black shared his mane in equal measure, while white had gained ascendency in his beard. However, it had not yet touched his arched eyebrows. He had a large head, larger than that of his son and niece. In the few minutes Athreya had shared with him, it had become apparent that Bhaskar was an intelligent man who knew his mind and got his way. His swarthy skin was tough and lined beyond his sixty-five years. Athreya guessed that he had seen a lot of the outdoors in his earlier years.
Strong shoulders extended into long, powerful arms that must have developed their taut muscles over years of manipulating and propelling wheelchairs. Perhaps he had not had the benefit of an electric wheelchair for a long time.
At length, Bhaskar looked up and spoke to Sebastian.
‘We must ask Enrico to delay his visit,’ he said. ‘He was contemplating coming the day after tomorrow. Now, with the landslide, that is not going to be possible. See if you can talk to him now. I’ll call him tomorrow, after we get a clearer picture from the Roads Department.’
‘Enrico?’ Manu asked as Sebastian went away to make the call.
‘An art valuer,’ Bhaskar replied. ‘Art critic, too. Didn’t I tell you that I’m having my painting collection appraised?
Enrico happens to be in India now, and I thought I’d use the opportunity.’
‘Oh, the valuer,’ Manu nodded, his face clearing. ‘I didn’t know his name.’
Just then, Michelle returned, in time to hear the last bit of the conversation. She was totally composed now, and smiled pleasantly at Athreya. She had changed into fawn-coloured trousers and a dark woollen top. Her black–brown hair was brushed back and hung just below her shoulders.
‘The valuer is coming?’ she asked. ‘When?’
‘It’ll take a few days,’ Manu replied. ‘There’s been a landslide. The road is blocked. No casualties, thank heavens. We escaped it by a whisker.’
‘Landslide?’ she asked in alarm. ‘Where?’
‘On the main road, before you turn into the valley; it came down not more than a dozen yards behind our jeep.’
‘Oh!’
For a brief moment, Michelle’s features froze. Just when Athreya thought that she was going to commiserate with her cousins on their close shave, she excused herself and went to the French windows, where she pulled out her phone and began texting.
‘Dora,’ Bhaskar growled. ‘Are you going to leave me thirsty, girl?’
‘Thought it might do you good to be sober for a little while,’ Dora rejoined cheekily, winking at Athreya. ‘Your usual poison?’
Bhaskar grunted something unintelligible that Dora seemed to understand. She picked up a glass from the bar counter and walked over to a cupboard near the French windows at the far end of the room, which was in shadows. She opened the cupboard to reveal a row of bottles, a collection of finer liquor.
‘And give Mr Athreya something decent from my cupboard,’ Bhaskar called after Dora. ‘Not your varnish that passes for whisky.’
Just as Dora was about to bring down a bottle from the upper shelf, a figure came in through the French windows. In his hand was a polished cane about three-feet long, which he was trying to twirl between his fingers. In the low light, he didn’t see Dora and almost cannoned into her. He managed to avoid her, but his cane, out of control from his clumsy twirling, did not.
The swishing end of the stick struck the glass in Dora’s hand and shattered it. With a hiss of pain, she dropped the remaining shards. The next moment, ma
roon blood oozed across her palm and began to drip on to the wooden floor.
‘Richie!’ Manu called with suppressed anger as he sprang forward and switched on a light. ‘Watch where you are going, man.’
‘Who, me?’ the newcomer retorted petulantly. ‘She was in the way! What is she doing in front of the French windows?’
‘Fixing me a drink, you blundering oaf!’ Bhaskar bellowed. ‘Now make yourself useful and fetch the first-aid kit. You have cut your sister’s hand!’
For a brief moment, Richie Fernandez seemed to contemplate a tart response. He quickly thought the better of it, and ran the length of the room and out of the door. It didn’t escape Athreya’s notice that he had neither expressed regret at having hurt his sister, nor shown any form of remorse. The sole emotion on his strikingly handsome face was anger.
‘It’s nothing, Uncle,’ Dora said in a small voice, coming to her brother’s aid. ‘It’s just a cut, that’s all.’
‘When will you stop defending your brother, girl?’ Bhaskar asked in a voice that reminded Athreya of muted thunder. ‘Now let the doctor look at your hand.’
Michelle was already striding towards Dora, saying,
‘Let me see, Dora.’
On studying the injury for a second, she called to Manu over her shoulder, ‘Can you fetch my medical bag from my room, Manu? This is going to need some dressing. Bring it to the hall; I’ll need more light.’
‘Is it bad, Michelle?’ Bhaskar demanded darkly.
‘A little deep at one end, but nothing that won’t heal in a couple of days. Dora has seen worse. Come, Dora, let’s go.’
Michelle had wound a napkin from the bar around Dora’s hand to stem the bleeding. She was calm and assured as her doctor persona took over. Her earlier edginess was nowhere in sight.
As Michelle and Dora walked out, with Manu in tow, an elderly man with a serious face walked in. He was roughly Bhaskar’s age, but was balding and clean-shaven. His rimless glasses glinted in the dim light of the drawing room as they caught and reflected the brighter light from the hall.
‘What happened?’ he asked in a quiet, cultured voice.
‘Dora seems to have hurt herself.’
‘A small accident,’ Bhaskar rumbled. ‘Cut her hand. Michelle says it’s not serious. Let me introduce you to Mr. Athreya. Mr. Athreya, this is Varadan, an old friend of mine and my lawyer for many years.’
Athreya shook hands with Varadan, looking with interest at the man who had helped Bhaskar write the two curious wills.
‘Did you drive up from Coimbatore?’ Varadan asked after pleasantries had been exchanged.
‘No,’ Athreya replied. ‘I took the toy train from Mettupalayam.’
‘How on earth did you manage to get a ticket for it at such short notice?’ Bhaskar asked. ‘Some government connection?’
Athreya smiled enigmatically and changed the topic.
‘By the way,’ he said, ‘I met someone on the train who knows you.’
‘Who?’
‘One Wing Commander Sridhar and his wife.’
‘Ah! Sridhar!’ Bhaskar exclaimed softly. ‘Entertaining man. Did he say anything about Greybrooke Manor?’
‘Yes, he did.’
‘Must have talked about “English buggers” and “Englishwalas”, I guess?’
‘Yes!’ Athreya grinned. ‘Does he always do that?’
‘He is a pukka sahib, that man. Would fit in perfectly if you were to send him back a hundred years into the past and insert him into the British–Indian army.’
‘He is Air Force, Bhaskar,’ Varadan teased, flashing a quick, mischievous smile at Athreya. ‘Not Army.’
‘There was no Air Force a hundred years ago, genius,’ Bhaskar shot back. ‘Sridhar would have to settle for the Army.’
‘I also met Ramanathan and his wife. They too spoke about you.’
‘Ramanathan?’ Bhaskar asked.
‘The retired postmaster.’ Bhaskar let out a guffaw.
‘Been making enquiries about me, have you?’ he asked with a grin. ‘Quick work! I’m impressed.’
Bhaskar lowered his voice and thrust his head forward at Athreya.
‘Before the youngsters return,’ he said, ‘I wanted to tell you this. I’d like to spend some time with you and Varadan tomorrow, before the guests start arriving. Manu told you about the two wills, I take it?
Athreya nodded.
‘I would like to tell you why I did that,’ Bhaskar went on. ‘Varadan, of course, knows all about it. And once you have heard me out, and I’ve answered your questions, I would like to offer you a commission. In the event of any … unpleasant developments.’
* * *
Dinner turned out to be an informal affair in the form of a buffet. Athreya had expected Bhaskar to have ordered a formal five-course meal, which would have been in keeping with the colonial, old-world atmosphere that Greybrooke Manor asserted. At about 9 p.m., Murugan, the chief of staff, came to the drawing room and discreetly announced that dinner had been served. All the residents of the mansion, with the exception of Richie, who had not been seen for over an hour, drifted to the dining room, chattering as they went.
Treating him as the guest of honour, Dora ushered Athreya to the tables where the buffet was laid out, and recommended dishes to him. Already informed that Athreya was a vegetarian, Bhuvana—Murugan’s wife and the mansion’s cook—had prepared a number of meatless dishes.
Soon, all of them were sitting around the long dining table with full plates.
‘Mr. Athreya,’ Michelle asked with a twinkle in her eyes, ‘do you believe in ghosts?’
‘Ah!’ Bhaskar exclaimed from the head of the table.
‘One of my favourite dinner-time topics. Of course, I like it even better over cognac after dinner. Come on, Mr. Athreya, tell us. Have you encountered the world of phantasms and apparitions?’
‘Not the kind of ghosts you probably have in mind, Michelle,’ Athreya replied, slowly and entirely in earnest.
‘Not in spirits, ghouls, ectoplasm and that sort of thing. Not in the ones you read about in horror stories. But I do believe in ghosts of a different sort—ones that are far more dangerous.’
‘What sort?’ Michelle asked in a hushed voice.
‘The kind that exist only in the minds of men and women. The ones that make them do things they would not otherwise attempt … from thievery and debauchery, to murder and massacre. Such phantoms can ravage the minds of the weak-willed and the insecure. That’s the kind of ghost I do believe in.’
‘Poo,’ Bhaskar exclaimed. ‘For a moment, I thought you were going to tell us a thrilling ghost story. I fear you have disappointed Michelle.’
‘Have I?’ Athreya asked Michelle with a smile. ‘I’m sorry. But I have faced my share of spooks and phantoms.’
‘Well, I guess you are too sane, Mr Athreya, too pragmatic to believe in such otherworldly things. But there are many here who do believe in them.’
‘I’m sure there are.’ Athreya smiled. ‘That’s so everywhere, all around the world. But do you believe in ghosts, Michelle?’
‘I don’t want to…but sometimes…’ She stopped.
‘Sometimes what?’ Athreya prompted.
‘Sometimes, you see or hear things you can’t explain away.’
‘Are you talking about the Parker thing, girl?’ Bhaskar asked.
Michelle nodded and looked up at Athreya.
‘There was an Englishman called Parker, who was one of the early owners of Greybrooke Manor. He was reputed to have been a devil worshipper, and there was a rumour that he had sacrificed a young girl at the chapel. Her nude body was found a mile away.
‘Parker was killed horribly, apparently in retaliation, and was denied a Christian burial. His chopped-up body was scattered along the length of the valley, and was never found. Because of that, they say, his spirit is unable to be at peace. It keeps wandering in the valley, searching for the p
ieces of its long-lost body. Sometimes it comes to Greybrooke Manor too.
‘Many people claim to have seem him at night, wandering about in the vale. The tale has been around for ages, well before Grandfather bought the Greybrooke estate.’
‘A practical man would say that the tale served its purpose,’ Athreya said cautiously, bringing his eyes back to the food on his plate. ‘It allowed an Indian to purchase this vast property for a song. Wasn’t this story one of the reasons behind the last English heir offering the estate at a throwaway price?’
‘Sounds like Wing Commander Sridhar,’ Bhaskar rumbled. ‘But he is not wrong. This tale and the larger legend contributed to my father getting the estate cheap. But the legend and its related tales still live on, you know. It will not be easy for me to find a willing buyer for this estate, should I wish to sell it. Myths and legends are powerful stuff.’
‘That they are,’ Athreya agreed wholeheartedly.
‘Myths, legends and well-spun fiction send sane men and nations to war. History is full of such incidents. If you’ve read Yuval Harari, you’ll know what I mean. Fiction drives men to the ends of the earth. And beyond.’ He turned to Michelle and continued, ‘Do you have reason to believe in these tales?’
Michelle seemed to struggle with putting together a response. She tried a couple of times and pulled back. Athreya waited patiently.
‘You see, Mr. Athreya,’ she finally managed, ‘I have seen Parker’s ghost.’
‘You?’ Bhaskar demanded. ‘When?’
‘Three times, Uncle. The latest occasion was last night.’
‘Where, girl?’
‘In the vale,’ Michelle said in a low voice. ‘A little beyond the cemetery.’
‘What were you doing in the cemetery at night?’ Bhaskar’s voice was a soft growl, not unlike a mother wolf’s.
When Michelle did not answer, Bhaskar let out a soft groan and rubbed his face vigorously.
‘Murthy is around, isn’t he?’ he asked kindly. ‘You went to see him.’
It was more a statement than a question. Michelle didn’t answer. Her eyes were riveted to the tabletop.
‘My dear girl, ask him to come here.’ Bhaskar’s tone had softened. ‘He doesn’t have to see me if he doesn’t want to. He can stay in the annex instead of that rundown Misty Valley Resort. Michelle, girl, whatever words he may have uttered, he is still family. He is your husband. Ask him to come over. Tell him I said so. At least you will not have to wander about the vale in the night. It’s dangerous, Michelle. Not that I believe in Parker’s ghost. There could be more deadly things aprowl.’