Daisy's Long Road Home

by Merryn Allingham

  ‘Don’t worry. It will be a very big pleasure for me to make those reports. Every word that I write will be one more to condemn them.’ She had never heard Javinder sound quite so ferocious.

  They were approaching the port at last and the scattering of carts dwindled, while the lorries increased in number and size. Then they were alongside The Arcadia, the liner that was to carry them to Southampton. And only just in time, by the look of it. Their journey from the church had taken far longer than they’d expected. The ship’s hooter sounded three urgent blasts; sailors were swarming around the gangway, ready at any moment to roll it back across the quay. Porters appeared out of nowhere to unload the small amount of luggage they’d brought and were soon squabbling over their right to do so. The driver shooed them away, waving his whip, but it did nothing to deter the arguments. Somehow they managed to clamber up the gangway with only two porters alongside, each carrying one small bag. It was comical, but this was India and this was the way things were done. At the top, they waved a final goodbye to Javinder and saw him jump back into the carriage. He would be on his way now to the railway terminus and Jasirapur.

  ‘I’ve ordered tea,’ Grayson said, as they flopped exhausted on to one of the narrow bunks. ‘I thought we’d have a quick drink and then go up on deck to wave Bombay farewell.’

  She looked around the cramped space, deciding where she could stow her few belongings for the three weeks they would be at sea. He saw her looking and said quickly, ‘I’m sorry the cabin is so small. It was the biggest they could find at such short notice.’

  ‘What’s a small cabin, when you’re happy. And when you have an electric fan?’ The fan was doing little more than churning warm air, but nothing was going to spoil her delight in the day. ‘Short notice or not,’ she said, ‘you’ve managed to get us a berth on the best side of the ship.’ She saw him smiling. ‘It is starboard on the way home?’

  ‘It is and you’re getting quite the traveller. Listen, that’s the steward outside. Tea is what we need most right now.’

  They were on their second cup when she felt the first thrum of the engines, then a jolt as the liner cast off its moorings and began its slow progress out to sea. She put her cup down.

  ‘Come on,’ she said, ‘we should be up on deck.’

  ‘You go ahead and I’ll join you in a minute. I need to find the purser’s office. There’s a telegram I must send.’

  The air was still solid with heat when he emerged from the companion way, but the beginnings of an offshore breeze fluttered hopefully at the ship’s flag. They were already gliding smoothly out of the shelter of the main harbour, the blue waters growing wider and the flat roofs of Bombay’s whitewashed buildings more distant. There were bright sails everywhere, dozens of small craft looping a pathway in and out of the many small islands that studded the bay; and the small tug that had pushed and pulled them from their berth was turning in a lazy arc and heading for its mooring. He looked back at the quay disappearing from view and thought how very different was their departure today from that of ten years ago. No noisy troops clumping in pairs up the gangway, their topis and kitbags slung over their shoulders. No military band playing farewell tunes, no singing or shouting, or throwing coloured streamers from ship to quay. And no crowds gathered to wave goodbye to the lines of troops on their way home to England. The last of the British soldiers were long gone and somehow it felt better for that.

  He needed to feel better. The business with Mike still weighed heavily. He would never understand what had made the man a traitor. He understood his grievances all right, in many ways he sympathised with them, but to have betrayed the service, to have betrayed his country, for that’s what it amounted to, that he couldn’t understand. He’d suspected for a long time that all was not well, but he hadn’t wanted to believe the worst. And then he’d heard Mike’s voice, seeping from that audience chamber, a final miserable confirmation. But Corrigan’s guilt didn’t make it any easier—his death was a wound that would take many years to heal. It had come out of nowhere and was the last thing Grayson would have wished. It was murder and he was responsible. He might comfort himself that it had been pure accident, that he could as easily have been the one to slip on the knife at a deadly angle, but the fact that he had killed a friend would always be with him.

  He braced himself to meet Daisy. He didn’t want to burden her with his darkest thoughts, not after all she’d been through. She was standing at the ship’s rail, shading her eyes against the sun, and watching the vessel carve a majestic passage through the calm waters. To her right, the tangle of docks was receding rapidly and in the streets beyond, coconut palms, mango trees and tamarinds were no larger now than matchsticks. On a slightly raised strip of land to her left was all that remained of the earliest British fortifications. They appeared and disappeared within minutes. But she didn’t notice. She was looking neither to left nor to right but steadfastly ahead, as though willing the ship to travel fast and true to the home for which she’d searched for so long.

  He looked at the small, erect figure standing at the bow of the ship and his heart was filled with such a fierce and possessive love that for a moment he felt physically shaken. That they were here together as man and wife was little short of a miracle. Months ago, he’d accepted the hopelessness of loving her and set out quite deliberately to kill his feelings. Or so he’d thought. But then they’d been thrown together in this adventure, and he’d known within days, within hours even, that his emotions burned as brightly as ever and possibly always would. Somehow they’d come together again and somehow he’d made Daisy his own. If he had any say in it, that’s the way it would stay.

  CHAPTER 24

  The ship was passing the great white arch that marked the Gateway of India when he came up beside her. ‘Do you remember the last time we stood watching the Gateway slip into the distance?’ he asked, then answered his own question. ‘Of course, you do. How could you not?’

  She smiled up at him. ‘Neither of us were quite sure then what we were returning to. And you had no idea that within months you’d be back in India again.’

  ‘With luck, that won’t happen this time. The Rajah made no attempt to hide his tracks. He’s left behind enough evidence in the palace to hang him and every one of his fellow conspirators, including Adeep. At the very least there’ll be enough to ensure that prison is their final resting place.’

  ‘But not Ramesh Suri’s.’ She pursed her lips at the thought.

  ‘Not at the moment,’ he agreed. ‘He’s been a lot more calculating and a good deal more clever in covering his wrongdoing. But the police are on his trail. He’ll have slipped up somewhere—greedy men always do. And I’m pretty sure there was something else going on, something that can provide more evidence. He wasn’t just chasing money. Once the project was launched, I’m certain he hoped to implicate the Rajah, but escape scrutiny himself. Somewhere he’ll have locked away the documents he considered incriminating. But an expert prosecutor should be able to use them against him as much as against Verghese.’

  ‘You’re saying that money wasn’t his prime motive?’

  He saw her expression and didn’t blame her for the scepticism. ‘His game was certainly to make as much money as possible, but then I think he intended to shop Verghese. And that has to be pure revenge. When the Rajah’s son wrote to his wife that he was leaving her for another woman, he dishonoured the Suri family and, in Ramesh’s eyes at least, made a whore out of Parvati. So what better revenge than to make money from Karan’s father and then see him land in jail?’

  ‘He couldn’t have anticipated that his own son would be part of the crime scene,’ she said thoughtfully.

  ‘He was unlucky in his timing. Until that last day, he’d always managed to keep his distance from the action, and if it hadn’t been for the Rajah demanding Dalip’s presence in Sikaner, there wouldn’t have been a family member in sight when the project kicked off.’

  ‘But Dalip is certain to be char
ged, isn’t he?’

  ‘They’ll both be charged eventually, father and son. Like I say, there’ll be stuff that can be traced back to Ramesh. And, of course, the Rajah is more than happy to spill his own beans. There’s no love lost between them. It was a business arrangement that suited them both, until it no longer suited them. Suri senior had a legitimate business selling Indian antiques around the world, but a somewhat less legitimate one doing deals in secret for people who didn’t want publicity. Dalip has been learning the trade. He’s thoroughly implicated in the shadier aspects of the firm.’

  ‘I still feel a little sorry for him.’

  ‘Well, don’t. He was more than ready to take over after Ramesh retired with his ill-gotten pile.’

  He noticed the slightest shadow pass across her face. ‘He was brought up without a mother,’ she said. ‘That has to be some mitigation. His father’s say has been everything. Dalip was his clone and has done exactly what he was told.’

  ‘So you don’t blame him?’

  ‘Only partially. And Daya, not at all. He seemed a sweet boy bullied by his family.’

  ‘As far as I can see, Daya is a complete innocent. He’s at Delhi university, a law student, and has no interest whatsoever in his father’s business. With luck, the authorities will leave him alone.’

  He broke off and waved towards the headland which lay at the extreme south of two parallel ridges of low hills. It was the harbour’s last protective arm. ‘Look, Colaba Point.’

  ‘We’re there already? We must have picked up speed.’ She swivelled round to face in the opposite direction. ‘I can hardly make out Malabar Hill.’ The highest point above the flat plain on which most of Bombay was built had all but vanished.

  ‘We should say our last goodbyes then.’ He put his arm around her shoulder and hugged her close. ‘Talking of Dalip Suri, I never reported him for the hit and run. I didn’t tell you before—you’ve been a little preoccupied. I was going to add it to the charge sheet, but then I thought the incident might be better forgotten. I didn’t want to give the authorities any reason to detain us or bring us back here. Right now, I think you’ve had enough adventure and possibly enough India.’

  He was right. She had had enough. And he was right, too, to say that she’d been preoccupied. There had been almost too much to grapple with. At last she knew the name of her father, but it was a knowledge that disturbed as much as gladdened. Somewhere deep within she’d never expected to uncover the truth and now she had, there was joy certainly but tinged with a profound sadness. She’d found her father, only to lose him again. She would never know him, never even know about him. His father, her grandfather—and her mind still stuttered at the fact—would be in prison for what was left of his days. There would be no touching reconciliation between them, no stories of her father’s early years. But, and it was an amazing but, she had not been abandoned as she’d always imagined. Knowing that truth had brought her a new-found peace and brought, too, a fresh confidence.

  And that mattered. Her self-esteem had never been more than fragile. She’d fought against being a victim, told herself there were plenty of others orphaned as she had been, others raised in harsher conditions even, and she’d refused to be downtrodden or exploited. But the struggle to believe in herself, to make any kind of life, had often been lost. When Gerald arrived in her world, she’d thought naively that, after all, she might be special, only for her hopes to crash to earth when she’d found herself special in the worst of ways. Special because she’d married a man who, for his own mean ends, had not hesitated to thrust her into danger. But she was through with that. What Gerald had done was no longer important. What Anish had done was not important either. Instead, she would remember him as the friend she’d loved. A friend and a brother, her own flesh and blood, part of a family she had never known she possessed.

  Her quest was over. She knew who she was and she knew where she wanted to be. Home. She was going home. She looked out at the sea and saw not the broad expanse of ocean but a powerful road speeding her to her destination. It was carrying her towards the new family she and Grayson would make. No fairy tale this but far, far better. Fairy tales, as she’d learned to her cost, could too easily crumble, but this story would stay warm and stay solid. It would be the building of a life together.

  ‘Did you send your telegram?’ she said, pushing her thoughts aside. Grayson was still on duty and she must remember that.

  ‘I did. And managed to confirm that it arrived safely.’ He paused for an instant. ‘It was about Mike.’ She knew it was difficult for him to talk about his friend, but it was best they did. From now on they should have no secrets from each other.

  ‘The service will make the arrangements?’

  ‘He’s to be brought home for burial. In Ireland, I believe.’

  There was another pause, longer this time, and then she asked what had been on her mind ever since she’d heard Mike’s voice in the palace. ‘Did you never suspect him?’

  ‘I came to, but only very gradually. I kept hoping I was wrong.’

  ‘And Javinder? Did he know anything of Mike’s activities?’

  ‘He told me he’d become suspicious months ago. But I was the only one at headquarters he could talk to and as I was Mike’s closest friend, he felt it impossible.’

  ‘He couldn’t go over your head? Send his report to a more senior officer?’

  ‘He wasn’t going to write to London to tell them they had a spy in their midst, if that’s what you mean, though he was pretty certain that was the case.’

  ‘I don’t see why not, if he was so sure. Anyway, how did he come to that conclusion—about the spying?’

  Grayson looked ahead, his face stern. ‘Apparently he alerted the police force in nearby towns several times about possible trouble—he has his own informants in and around Sikaner—but each time the troublemakers, or rather the killers, got away before the police arrived. There had to be someone tipping them off and since Javinder was sending advance information to London about the police raids, the tip-off had to have come from headquarters.’

  He stopped talking for a while and began to drum a tattoo on the painted railings. Daisy waited quietly beside him. ‘Several things pointed him in Mike’s direction,’ he said at last, ‘but he couldn’t be definite and he didn’t have proof. Without that, to accuse an SIS man of treason would have been death to Javinder’s career. That’s why he went to Sikaner to find out for himself who was behind the violence and who was helping them in London. But he found out more than he bargained for. The project in all its grisly detail landed in his lap, and he landed in that dreadful cell. At least he’s fit again now and he’ll get promotion for what he’s done—not as much as he deserves, but still a promotion.’

  ‘All that planning,’ she said wonderingly. ‘All the money the Rajah must have spent, and all for nothing.’

  ‘Splendid, isn’t it? Not a single injury or death that day. Instead the project died.’

  ‘Thanks to Javinder. And to you.’

  ‘And you, Daisy. You’re in there with us.’ He was smiling now, she was relieved to see. Mike had been temporarily forgotten. She hoped that, as the months rolled by, memory would grow kinder.

  ‘What will happen to Sikaner now there’s no rajah, and no son and no grandson?’

  ‘Do you fancy offering your services?’

  ‘Don’t tease.’

  ‘I mean it. You should be the next in line, though you might have a little difficulty convincing the authorities that the palace is yours.’

  ‘More than a little difficulty. Think of how shocked they’d be at the prospect—mixed race, illegitimate, and a woman.’

  ‘Possibly their worst nightmare,’ he agreed companionably. ‘There’s a son of the Rajah’s cousin somewhere. Strangely, he’s in the Indian Army too. I imagine he’ll resign his commission and take up the reins. And bring Sikaner into the Indian union.’

  ‘So it’s like I said. The Rajah’s plotting was al
l for nothing. Look, Grayson.’ She tugged at his arm and pointed at the land, now only the faintest of outlines. ‘Don’t miss our final view. There she goes, the last of India.’

  ‘For a while at least. And, to tell the truth, I’m looking forward to getting back to London. It may be grey and damp and the city may have been battered to the ground. But it’s home. And it’s where we’ll make a fresh start. That has to be good.’

  She was silent for a while, and then blurted out, ‘How will your mother feel about the marriage? When you tell her.’

  ‘She’ll be delighted. She’s always liked you. You know that.’

  Daisy hoped she knew it, but she also knew that Mrs Harte had come to doubt her commitment to Grayson and she might not be quite so willing now to welcome her new daughter-in-law.

  Grayson seemed unbothered. ‘I had a letter from her a few days ago,’ he went on. ‘Something else I haven’t mentioned. It took an age to get to Jasirapur, but arrived just before we left. It was full of notes on how to keep cool and how to be careful of the water and the food. Full, in fact, of utterly useless advice. But she did say she was delighted to hear you were with me and hoped that when we got back, we’d take tea with her.’

  ‘Taking tea with her doesn’t mean she’ll be happy to see us married.’

  ‘But you don’t know what her postscript said, do you? That if I possibly could, I should try to persuade you into a church.’

  ‘I’m sure she never said that,’ Daisy protested, imagining the words were wishful thinking on his part.

  ‘She certainly did. She’s always known you were the right one. She got quite cross with herself that she never managed to sort out a wedding for us. Now we can tell her we’ve done it all on our own.’