The fact that her assessment of the likely condition of the Devanaya family’s finances was probably correct satisfied her. A number of smaller companies that had supported the trade in silks and other fabrics had gone under in recent years. The biggest had been a sea-faring family who had once, according to the article, owned a fleet of a dozen sailing ships that traded with China. Two years ago the last of their ships had been sold and the family disappeared from the news reports.
The Devanayas still owned several vessels but there was little indication they were doing much business. There had been no reports of new contracts.
Maliha stood up, pulled a light shawl around her shoulders, and went to the window. Her room faced inwards towards the courtyard, of course, but in the general direction of the sea. The buildings of White Town were taller and showed a patchwork of windows, some dark, others bright with electric lights. Shadows moved across both. It was hard to think of people as existing when they were out of sight. That they had their own lives. That they talked, argued, and kissed when Maliha was not there to see it happen.
It was as if the world existed only around her. Logically—intellectually—she knew they had their own lives. She was no solipsist, but it was still hard.
Who could have killed Arnithi Devanaya née Moopanar?
Her mother-in-law was an obvious choice. Arnithi had been meeting another man, and that was certainly sufficient justification. The woman had probably caused the burns on the Arnithi’s hands as punishment for some minor crime. She would certainly have had the opportunity.
The husband was a suspect for the same reason. Maliha had never seen him, so was not able to judge whether he seemed the sort that would.
The father-in-law? Someone else?
Maliha shook her head. She did not have enough information. All she knew for sure at this point was that the marriage was not the step up for Arnithi and her family that it ought to have been.
*
Maliha took her breakfast with her grandmother. Grandfather had already eaten, as was tradition. Maliha ate the mixture of rice and vegetables slowly. She found herself craving eggs and bacon.
She sighed. I have been ruined by the British.
‘A proper woman does not sigh at her own thoughts.’
Maliha was certain her grandmother uttered these supposed pearls of ancient wisdom and etiquette as they occurred to her, and only as long as they were a criticism of Maliha’s behaviour. Arguing was not worth the effort.
‘I will be having my parents’ property purified and blessed, Grandmother.’
‘You said you intended to leave.’
‘That remains true,’ said Maliha. ‘But the property will have more value if the corruption is removed.’
‘Why do you even care?’
‘Because it is where my mother lived, and I grew up here. I shall have the building rebuilt in her honour.’
Maliha lifted more rice to her mouth with her right hand. The use of the left hand when eating had disgusted her for a long time when she had been sent to England. Even her father had adopted the Indian custom since to do otherwise would have made it impossible for him to have a relationship with her mother.
In England she had been sick the first time she sat at the communal table in the school’s refectory and watched them eating with their left hands as well as the right. She had been punished for her reaction by being forced to eat only bread and water on her own. At least they had considered it a punishment. It had been a blessing for her at the time.
In the end she had become acclimatised to it, and did it herself though as little as possible. She justified it during the main meals by reasoning that a fork meant she was not actually using her left hand.
Now she had to force herself to keep her left hand in her lap.
‘Does Grandfather do any business with the Moopanars?’
‘Those miners?’ Grandmother’s tone was one of utter contempt. ‘Of course not. They used to live quite close but thankfully have moved to a location more fitting to their station.’
Maliha looked down at her food. The only way she was going to find the girl’s murderer would be to start making a fuss. It would be like the British on a hunt; she must beat the bushes to flush out the culprit.
But beating the bushes would make her a target. She shook her head. It would not be the first time, and the truth must be revealed.
‘You think too much,’ said her grandmother. ‘It is a habit you should curb if you wish to find a husband.’
ix
Renuka arrived shortly after nine o’clock with her maid in tow. Maliha had hoped to be out in case she appeared, but it seemed she could not escape her cousin. She was also somewhat shocked to see Renuka wearing a flowing dress of distinctly French design.
‘What on earth do you have on?’
‘It’s the latest fashion from Paris.’ Renuka spun around. ‘Do you like it?’
Maliha found herself shaking her head again. ‘And your mother knows about this?’
‘Of course, she is very modern, not like Grandmother,’ Renuka said. ‘And Mother said I should look after you because you’ve forgotten our ways.’
Maliha could think of nothing further to say. She walked out of the front door and headed for the road with Renuka not far behind and the maid bringing up the rear. Renuka hurried to catch up.
‘Where are we going today?’
‘I am going to speak to Arnithi’s mother,’ she said pointedly. ‘You should not come.’
‘You do not know the family and the Devanayas will be beginning Arnithi’s death rites today. I saw them building a pyre. Her parents will be going there.’
Maliha picked up the pace. ‘Then we should hurry.’
It took no more than five minutes to reach the Moopanar house at the slightly less expensive end of Black Town. There were people coming and going from the residence. Maliha strode up to the entrance to be stopped by a youth little more than a child. He had the same nose as Arnithi, a younger brother perhaps.
Maliha pressed her palms together. ‘Namaste, I am Maliha Anderson and this is my cousin. I would speak with your mother.’ It was a guess but he did not contradict her.
‘It is not a good time. Perhaps another day.’
Maliha chose to look demure. ‘I understand your loss, but it is important I speak with her. It is about your sister’s death.’
The boy stared at her for a moment and disappeared inside.
‘What are you doing?’ asked Renuka.
‘I am preparing to beat the bushes.’
‘You are talking in riddles, cousin.’
Maliha did not answer. The youth returned and led the way inside. The construction was similar to her grandmother’s house but with everything on smaller scale.
They did not go upstairs to the zenana as Maliha expected but through to the courtyard. Mrs Moopanar was watering the tulsi and muttering beneath her breath. Prayers for her dead daughter. Maliha turned to her cousin before she stepped into the courtyard. ‘You must wait back there, Renuka.’
‘I want to come with you.’
Maliha shook her head. ‘It is very important you do not hear what I have to say to Mrs Moopanar.’ She moved closer to her cousin and spoke quietly. ‘There is nothing I shall say that you do not already know but, for your own safety, it must appear that you do not know it.’
‘My safety, Maliha?’ said Renuka keeping her voice down in the same manner. ‘But what about yours?’
‘I know what I am doing, and I have done it before,’ she said. ‘There is danger here but you must not be touched with it. You are due to be married and I could not face your mother if something happened to you because of me.’
Renuka relented and drew back. ‘Very well, cousin. I will wait by the entrance.’
Mrs Moopanar finally turned and looked at Maliha, who pressed her palms together. ‘Namaste,’ Maliha said as she carefully maintained a respectful demeanour.
‘I know you. You are the da
ughter of Naisha Ganapathy and the Englishman.’
‘I am Maliha Anderson, Mrs Moopanar.’ She did not correct the woman about her father’s nationality.
‘Why do you come here on this day of my loss?’
Maliha took a step closer and knelt to touch the woman’s feet. ‘I have come to tell you a truth about the death of your daughter,’ she said. ‘If you will hear me.’
‘Do you seek to increase my pain?’
‘The truth may hurt but it is better than lies.’
The woman was silent and had not given her blessing in response to Maliha’s obeisance.
‘What is this truth?’
‘It was I who found your daughter’s body on the sand,’ she said with enough volume for her voice to carry through the courtyard. ‘It was I that arranged for her to be carried to the temple, because I did not know her.’
‘This brings me no pain but does not soothe my heart.’
‘Did the family of your daughter’s husband tell you how she died?’
There was a pause. ‘They said she was drowned.’
‘They lied.’
Maliha could feel the tension in the other woman: the desire to throw Maliha out fighting the need to know the truth.
‘What is the truth you claim to know?’
‘She had been stabbed with a sword and thrown into the sea in the hope she would never be found. But the currents brought her quickly back to the shore as the tide was going out, and left her on the sand.’
There was a long pause. ‘And how do you know this?’
‘I saw the wound in her back and in her stomach. There is no doubt.’
‘Why should I believe you?’
‘Why should you believe them?’
Another pause and the foot Maliha was touching was pulled away. ‘You seek my blessing, Maliha Ganapathy? I will not give it to you.’
The woman walked away.
Maliha felt odd. Though she did not truly believe the old religions, to be denied a blessing when requested was like finding the book one was reading had the final page missing. She was incomplete.
She climbed awkwardly to her feet; her leg pained her after kneeling. She glanced at the boy who stared at her. Good, he had heard her. With luck he would not be able to keep his mouth shut and her accusation would spread.
She felt tired but pulled herself together. She walked through the house, gathering up Renuka and her maid as she left.
‘Where are we going now?’ said Renuka.
‘The temple.’
Maliha studied the houses as they walked back in the direction of her grandmother’s house. It was interesting how they changed subtly, becoming more ostentatious by stages.
‘The Moopanars moved recently?’ she said suddenly to Renuka.
‘They had a place near us,’ said her cousin, waving in the general direction of her own house.
‘I see.’
They walked in silence for a while until Renuka said, ‘Would it not be simpler if it was that French soldier?’
‘What has simple got to do with it?’
‘Because you are stirring things up. If it was the Frenchman he could be guillotined and nobody would care, and both Arnithi’s families would be content.’
‘Why should I not stir things up if it finds the truth?’
‘You set Indian against Indian.’
‘So it is permissible for an Indian to kill an Indian as long as a foreigner is blamed for it?’
‘No, but …’ Renuka’s argument died.
‘There is no ‘but’, cousin, there is only the truth.’ Maliha could tell from the silence that Renuka was unconvinced. ‘If Arnithi’s murderer goes free then they may kill again. How would it be if we blamed the Frenchman and then the murderer killed Grandmother?’
There was the slightest hesitation and Renuka said in a very quiet voice, ‘I’m not sure that would be so bad.’
Maliha laughed. ‘Perhaps. But what if it was me, or you? What if it was her husband who did it for her betrayal of their marriage and then your mother married you to him?’
‘I’m to wed Balaji.’
‘Things can change.’
The huge rectangular arch of the Manakula Vinayagar Temple in White Town came into view as the road curved to the left. They wandered past the multitude of traders. The detailed carvings depicted Ganesha and other gods.
‘Perhaps Ganesha will give us a new beginning,’ said Renuka. ‘We should offer a prayer.’
‘You can offer the prayer,’ said Maliha. ‘I only want to talk to a priest.’
x
‘Namaste,’ said Maliha and pressed her palms together below her chin to show the proper level of respect for the priest. He was quite young, only in his thirties, and Maliha found herself surprised that she thought of him as handsome. She pushed that thought away.
‘Namaste, Miss Anderson,’ he said with a smile. ‘What can I do for you?’
She frowned and leaned heavily on her stick. ‘You know who I am?’
‘I knew your mother.’
‘I see.’
‘She was a kind and wise woman.’
‘Thank you.’
‘And she took her religious duties and observances seriously.’
Maliha glanced at him. ‘Are you suggesting I do not?’
‘I have not seen you here at the temple.’
‘I do not think I need Ganesha to guide my activities,’ she said. ‘I am sure he has enough to do looking after those who have doubts. Besides, we have a shrine in my grandmother’s house.’
‘And you are artful in avoiding the question,’ he said. ‘Come.’ He led the way towards the shrine. ‘Do you complete your prayers every day?’
‘I do not.’
‘To your grandmother’s displeasure?’
Maliha shrugged as they crossed the stone-flagged floor to the large statue of Ganesha set under an arch. Light from the windows glinted from the gold leaf that covered the stone. The detail in the face and trunk of the elephant-headed god was impressive.
‘At least I am not a hypocrite,’ she said.
The shrine was empty except for the two of them. ‘It was you who sent the body of Arnithi Devanaya to us, was it not?’
Maliha leaned heavily on her stick. She had done more walking in the past few days than in a very long time, and it was taking its toll. ‘Yes.’
‘But you did not alert the French.’
‘They do not understand India. Whatever they did would only make things worse.’
‘But she was murdered. Surely failure to report the crime is a crime in itself.’
Maliha glanced at Ganesha’s smiling face. ‘I can be of more use then they can.’
He turned to face her fully. ‘You think the events in England and on the ship that brought you home qualify you to take that responsibility?’
‘With Ganesha’s blessing,’ she said and he smiled.
‘You work to remove obstacles and request the blessing of a deity you do not believe in?’
‘It can’t do any harm,’ she said.
His smile broadened. With difficulty Maliha knelt on the hard stone floor and the priest placed his palm on her head. ‘I can give you a blessing,’ he said, ‘but if you want the help of Lord Ganesha himself you must follow the rituals for seven weeks.’
‘I haven’t got that much time,’ she said and pushed herself up from the floor. ‘So I suppose I’ll have to do it on my own.’ She glanced at the statue which was, after all, merely a representation of an idea. ‘I do wonder though,’ she said, ‘why you didn’t report the murder?’
‘Personally I was not here,’ he said, ‘and some of my colleagues are reluctant to deal with our European overlords. They feel they must present a particular image, and the curious death of a woman might bring unwanted attention.’
‘Would you have reported it?’
‘I don’t know,’ he said. ‘But we cannot build our lives on what-ifs.’
She turned to go but he l
aid his hand on her arm. ‘Miss Anderson,’ he said, ‘please take care.’
There was something about the way he spoke that gave her pause. At that moment another priest came in and knelt by the door.
‘Is there something you want to tell me?’ she said quietly.
‘P. K. Moopanar has been a frequent visitor to the temple.’
‘Her father?’
‘He has been reciting the Rinn harta mantra.’
‘I don’t know Sanskrit.’
He nodded. ‘It is for wealth and prosperity.’
‘When did he start doing that?’
‘About a year ago.’
‘Thank you for your help,’ she said and left the shrine, collecting Renuka, who was busy muttering one of the shorter mantras, on the way out of the temple.
Maliha set off back towards Black Town with Renuka in tow.
They crossed the stinking drainage ditch and turned onto the main road.
‘Why would the Moopanars move to a smaller house?’ said Maliha.
‘Their daughter had married and moved out. They did not need anything bigger.’
‘What man of means would move to a less ostentatious dwelling? He wants the world to know how rich he is and how he is blessed. It might be sensible to move, but that is what a woman would say, not a man.’
Renuka shrugged. ‘Perhaps his wife rules him.’
‘And why would he be in the temple praying for better prosperity?’
Renuka was about to question the statement when Maliha interrupted her. ‘The priest told me.’
‘Perhaps his business is doing badly.’
‘It isn’t,’ said Maliha. That was one of things I was looking for in the papers. But the Devanayas’ business is almost completely dead.’
‘But the wedding and their house?’
Maliha looked at her cousin. ‘Exactly.’
The two of them stopped at the side of the road to allow a carriage to pass, then set off across the street. There was a clatter of iron on stone as a horse thundered out of a side street and turned towards them. Transfixed for a moment as it barrelled towards them, Maliha jumped back, attempting to pull Renuka with her.
Lure of the Riptide Page 4