by Paul Scott
‘What?’
‘When you were in England last year, with your Aunt Fenny.’
‘No.’
‘Nor answered my second letter.’
‘No, I’m sorry. But that was a long time ago too.’
‘Was the visit home a disappointment?’
‘I don’t suppose I gave it a proper chance. It might have been different if Aunt Fenny had gone home for good. But she had her return passage booked. And when the time came I felt I had to come back too.’
‘You told me once that India wasn’t a place you felt you could be happy in.’
‘Did I? Yes, I remember thinking that.’ She looked at him. ‘I’ve been very happy since.’
‘Has Susan been happy?’
Sarah didn’t answer at once. Then she said, ‘At the moment she’s in rather a bad way, probably worse than the family realizes. I can’t remember what you knew about her history, but she’s never been what is called really stable.’
‘Didn’t Ronald Merrick give her stability?’
Again she didn’t answer at once.
‘He’s provided it now. You’ll see what I mean if she talks to you about him, which is fairly likely. He’s all she talks about.’
‘It was a successful marriage, then?’
‘I expected it to be disastrous. Of course, he adored the boy, and the boy adored him. Edward doesn’t know Ronnie’s dead, by the way. I ought to warn you.’
‘Is the boy here?’
‘Yes.’ Sarah stubbed her cigarette. ‘Su wouldn’t leave him in Pankot, which is partly why Fenny had to come. Anyway, it’s no bad thing for her to have him with her, but it’s had its awkward side. I looked after him while the others went to the funeral. It was difficult explaining to him why mummy kept crying and why they’d come all the way back to daddy’s house and not seen daddy. He said daddy had promised he’d still be here when their holiday in the hills was over and he’d made everything safe again. So of course I said that things were quite safe now but that daddy had had to go away for a while to make them safe somewhere else.’
‘Ronald sent them back to Pankot because of trouble here?’
‘Partly that, but to get them into the hills for the hot weather as well. Su wanted just to go up to Nanoora, but Ronald said if there was any more trouble Nanoora would be just as bad.’
‘Has there been much trouble?’
‘Off and on, yes. Quite a lot. That’s why he was sent here in the first place. They were up in Rajputana. He’d become temporarily attached to the States Police. You know? The reserve pool that sends officers and men to states where the rulers’ own police forces need helping out? He packed Su and Edward back to Pankot and came down here alone. They say he did a marvellous job. The Nawab’s own police are practically all Muslims, and that was part of the problem, because they took sides in communal disturbances, lashing out at Hindu crowds and mobs and turning a blind eye if the Muslims were having a go. Ronnie stopped all that. He pretended it was easy. He said all he’d had to do was make the Muslim Chief of Police see he had a duty to the whole community, but it can’t have been as simple as that.’
‘When was all this?’
‘Last December. He didn’t expect the job to last long. But Dmitri was so impressed by the way he handled it he persuaded the States Police to let him stay on and help overhaul the whole Mirat Police Department and devise a new training and recruiting programme. It suited Ronnie very well. At one time there was an idea he might retire officially from the service and make a contract with the Nawab. Su and he set up house early last March. Then in May when the hot weather was really cooking up he sent her and Edward back to Pankot. As I said, partly because of the heat and partly because there was another outbreak of communal riots.’
‘That was their bungalow next door, wasn’t it?’
‘Yes. It’s not nearly as dilapidated as this. In fact he made it very comfortable. I stayed with them for a while after I helped Su move down from Pankot. But since April I’ve been living either at Dmitri’s or the palace. Now, of course, I’ll have to go back with Su. Fenny can’t cope with the journey alone. And I don’t know how badly Su’ll take it when the reaction sets in.’
‘I see there was a post-mortem.’
‘Yes.’ She got up. ‘I really must go.’
Perron, getting up too, said, ‘How long has Nigel been in Mirat?’
‘About six weeks. The Political Department sent him down to try and sort things out. Actually Dmitri asked for him. Mirat comes under the Resident at Gopalakand and things got rather difficult. Nigel will tell you all about it. I’ll be in touch, Guy. Probably this evening.’
The driver had come back. But just as she began to go down the steps another car came into the compound. ‘You’re in luck,’ she said. ‘Here’s Nigel now.’
She went down to meet him. Perron stayed on the verandah. The car stopped several yards away from the one already parked. The driver got out and opened the door. A man emerged. If it was Rowan then he had lost even more weight. This man’s skin was pale yellow and looked almost translucent, stretched over the cheek-bones. The man raised a welcoming hand to Perron, then said something to Sarah. They came towards the steps. Only now was the man’s face recognizable as Rowan’s.
‘Hello, Guy,’ he said. ‘I’m sorry but I’m afraid I’m only here to pack a case.’ They clasped hands.
‘I’ll see to the case,’ Sarah said. ‘How many nights?’
‘Two at the most. I ought to be back tomorrow evening. And don’t bother. Tippoo can do it.’
‘Does it include black tie?’
‘I’ve got all that in Gopalakand. Just one other suit. Isn’t Tippoo here?’
‘Yes, but I’ll see he gets it right.’ She went inside calling for someone named Tippoo. From the far end of one of the narrow wings of the verandah a middle-aged Indian in European clothes came out of a casement doorway: a clerk, not a servant. Rowan said, ‘Just a second, Guy,’ and went to meet him. They talked for a while. Then Nigel came back.
‘Have you got a drink?’
Perron indicated his glass.
‘Let me freshen it for you. I really do apologize. We’re in the middle of what I suppose you’d call a flap. I’ve got to go up to Gopalakand.’ He handed Perron the refilled glass. ‘You’re looking very fit. I’ll be back in a moment.’
He went inside. Perron heard him calling Tippoo and Sarah calling something back. The clerk came out again, with a couple of files, but seeing Perron alone he went back inside, presumably to look for Rowan indoors. A telephone rang and was quickly answered. The two drivers were gossiping. Perron sat down and composed himself, to let the tide of India flow over him; presently it would ebb and leave him revealed: a visitor who was excluded from the mystery, the vital secret. I have been happy since, Sarah had said; as a woman might say if she were in love. In love with whom? Nigel? But he had been in Mirat only six weeks and she had been here since March, obviously content. Merrick? No, that was impossible. And Merrick’s death didn’t seem to have disturbed her in the way she would have been disturbed by the death of a man she had loved. The only answer seemed to be: in love with the land itself, after all; yes, in love with that, and content to be here whatever happened. A strange but perhaps logical reversal of her old attitude.
‘I won’t apologize again,’ Rowan said, coming back and sitting opposite, glancing at his watch. ‘But I have to be off in five or ten minutes, so let’s work out what’s best for you. There are three possibilities. You’re more than welcome to stay here, and you could rely on Tippoo to look after you. Dmitri asked me to tell you you’re equally welcome to move into the Dewani Bhavan, but he’s unlikely to be around much if at all in the next day or two. We’ve got a couple of States Department people over at the palace –’
‘Waving the standstill agreement and the instrument of accession to Congress India, and asking for the Nawab’s signature before August fifteen?’
‘Good, you know about th
at. That cuts out a lot of tedious explanation. The other alternative for you while I’m away is the Gymkhana Club if you’d prefer that sort of atmosphere. If you opt for the club I could take you there now, as my guest it goes without saying. I’ve got to collect Laura. Sarah would keep in touch with you of course and there’d always be a car available to take you anywhere you want to go. But don’t feel I’m pushing you out. My clerk will be here too most of the time and he’d help you in any way he can. Otherwise you can just forget about him. He has his own domestic arrangements. So, Guy, I leave it to you and in spite of what I said about not apologizing again, I do.’
‘It’s entirely my fault. I ought to have sent a wire. Checked that it was convenient.’
‘The flap would have occurred anyway. It’s not inconvenient for us. We’re just worried about you.’
‘I’d like to stay here, if that’s all right.’
‘Good. Actually it’ll make things easier for Sarah, not that she ever complains, but we do all tend to load her with extra jobs. She could help look after you better here than at the club.’
‘Tell me one thing, is the Resident at Gopalakand in what I call the entrenched opposition camp that’s encouraging the princes to stand firm on their own independence?’
‘Fundamentally, that is the problem.’
‘What does Dmitri want?’
‘Honourable integration.’
‘And the Nawab?’
‘I don’t think the poor old man knows. But after all these years he’s suddenly resisting Dmitri’s advice. The Resident’s trying to persuade the Maharajah in Gopalakand to sign nothing and reserve his position until paramountcy automatically lapses on August fifteen and leaves him technically independent. As a result the Nawab’s taking that line too. It’s quite hopeless of course. He knows it, but he’s being very stubborn and the Resident isn’t being in the least helpful. He’s never really been interested in Mirat. Mirat should have had its own agent long ago.’
‘Are you on Dmitri’s side, then?’
‘Let’s say I agree that the only sensible course for Mirat is to accede to the new Indian Union on the three main subjects, sign the standstill agreement and then get the best deal possible. Mirat’s entirely surrounded by what’s been British-Indian territory and overnight becomes Indian Union territory. The Nawab can’t live in a vacuum.’
Perron nodded. He said, ‘How have things been for you, Nigel, this past two years?’
‘I’ve moved around a lot. Little else. Perhaps I ought to have stayed in the army. It turned out to be the wrong time to come back into the Political. Still, the end would have been the same in either case.’
‘What do you hope to achieve in Gopalakand, or is that confidential?’
‘If I can come back with a letter from Conway to the Nawab making it clear that Mirat’s on its own and that Conway can’t advise either way, then we should be able to persuade the old chap to sign. And sign he must. There’s no sensible alternative. Except chaos, if that’s sensible. From what I’ve seen going on in the past few weeks I sometimes wonder whether the Political Department cares, so long as it can close itself down convinced that it’s upheld the principles of the whole past relationship between the States and the Crown.’
‘ “Nothing can bring you peace but yourself,” ’ Perron quoted. ‘ “Nothing can bring you peace but the triumph of principles.” ’
‘What?’
‘Emerson.’
‘Oh.’ Nigel smiled. ‘Did he say that? How apt. That sums up my department’s attitude admirably.’
‘Not just your department’s. I think it sums up the attitude of everybody who’s concerned in what happens on August fifteen.’ Perron took a sip of his gin. ‘I’m sorry about Merrick,’ he said. ‘Not that I ever liked the man. Still, he seemed to have made good in Mirat.’
‘Yes.’ Rowan looked at his watch again.
‘And Harry Coomer? Any news of him? I’m sorry I decided there was nothing to be done at my end.’
‘I don’t think I really expected it, but I appreciated your giving thought to it, and appreciated your letter. One becomes involved for a time, and then the involvement ends. In any case, I don’t think there was anything Kumar wanted.’
‘Why do you think that?’
‘He implied as much. We exchanged letters after Gopal died, last year. Poor old Gopal. He was always getting colds. He took his wife down to Puri for a holiday and caught cold and got pneumonia. I asked Mrs Gopal to put me in touch with the man who’d been helping Kumar rehabilitate himself. Got Kumar’s address out of him, so wrote. Difficult letter to write. I didn’t hear for ages. He’d moved, so my letter followed him around. When he wrote he didn’t give me his new address but the letter was postmarked Ranpur so he must still have been there, I imagine. Probably still is.’
‘What did he say?’
‘What it added up to was that he was quite content doing what he was doing, coaching students privately.’
‘A defensive attitude?’
‘I don’t think so. He seemed very grateful for the one or two things I’d suggested.’
‘What sort of things?’
‘Just general ideas about how he could make best use of his talents.’
‘Commerce for instance?’
‘Yes, but that would be open to him at almost any time.’
‘Would it, Nigel? The kind of commerce we think of as commerce? I seem to remember he failed to get into it once, with British-Indian Electric.’
‘Once.’
‘Has British-Indian Electric changed?’
Rowan said nothing.
‘Will anything ever really change in India, for him? Isn’t Harry Coomer the permanent loose end? Too English for the Indians, too Indian for the English?’
‘That, rather, is Sarah’s view. Frankly, I think he’s more interested in being just his own kind of Indian.’
‘Have you told her you tried to help him?’
‘Yes, but only quite recently.’
‘I don’t suppose you ever showed her a transcript of the examination?’
‘Good God, no. She knows nothing about that.’ He lowered his voice. ‘Few people do now, except you. Everything in connection with the examination was destroyed, except the orders for Kumar’s release.’
‘To protect Merrick’s reputation?’
‘The issues involved ranged far wider than that. I imagine quite a lot of files were vetted, and re-arranged.’
‘To make it more difficult for an incoming Congress ministry to smell out witches?’
‘A witch-hunt was what certain sections of Congress wanted. An inquiry could have aggravated racial tension to an intolerable degree, coming as it would have done on top of the INA trials. If it interests you as a student of history, there was no inquiry because between them Nehru and Wavell put a stop to it. They both saw what it could lead to.’
‘And Merrick got off scot-free.’
‘Actually, I think it annoyed him. I believe he felt slighted. There were only a few individual inquiries into serious cases involving rather senior officials. It was all done very quietly. One or two people got retired, prematurely.’
‘What happened to Kasim’s son, Sayed?’
‘He was cashiered. That’s all.’
‘What’s he doing now?’
‘I’m not sure. Living in Lahore, I believe, with his Muslim League sister and brother-in-law. In some kind of business. Ahmed will tell you.’
‘No splendid appointment for one of the INA heroes?’
‘They were only heroes for a while. In a way they still are. But folk-heroes. People in a story or legend. When it comes to finding places for them in the world of affairs it’s a bit different.’
Sarah came out. Behind her were a couple of servants with bags and the clerk with a briefcase. They went down to the car while Sarah said: ‘You’re all set, Nigel. If Laura asks, her green taffeta’s in the blue case, along with other things she might need.’
&n
bsp; ‘That’s good of you.’
‘Give Sir Robert my kind regards.’
‘I will. Guy’s going to stay here, by the way.’
‘Good. Do you ride?’
‘Off and on. Fortunately more on than off. But it’s pure luck.’
She laughed. ‘Perhaps we could go out tomorrow morning. I’ll ring you later today, anyway.’
The three of them went down into the compound but after he and Nigel had said goodbye Perron stayed near the bottom step while Nigel saw Sarah into her car and then got into his own. He waved them both off.
‘Sahib,’ Tippoo said, behind him. ‘Gin’n’fizz?’
*
Rain. Geckos. Clack-clack-clack. On the walls. Heraldic lizard shapes, pale yellow on the grey-white wash. Chasing one another, intent on copulation. He had woken erect himself – and, half-asleep, smiled, reassured both by this and the realization that the faint discomfort in his bowels had gone, that he was acclimatized. He peered at his wrist-watch. It was only half-past four. He had slept for two hours, after a lunch of chicken pulao, mutton curry lightly spiced in the northern Indian style, and Murree beer. Somewhere a gutter was overflowing. On the basket-work bed-side teapoy there was a tray of tea and a plate of bananas and bread and butter. It must have been the slight clatter of the tray that had woken him. He began to open the mosquito-net and, swinging himself up and round was about to get out when he remembered scorpions and paused, his feet well away from the floor. He reached down, tapped his slippers, and then thrust his feet into them. He grabbed a towel from the bedside chair, wound it round his middle and went into the bathroom.
But, returning, he paused on the threshhold of the bedroom, alert. There was a smell he hadn’t noticed before. A foul, sweet smell. He glanced around. In a moment or two the smell seemed to have gone. He sat down and poured tea. He glanced up at the sloping rafters; then lit a cigarette, smoked the recollection of the smell away. The shrouded bed looked like a catafalque. There was a sudden flash of lightning that lit the bathroom and momentarily distorted the shape of the bed. After that, the thunder. And then the humdrum sound of continuing but gradually diminishing rain.
As he finished his tea the bathroom was flooded in sunshine. He called for Tippoo.