A Division Of The Spoils (Raj Quartet 4) (60 page)

He explained the situation but I wasn’t being very bright and it took me some time to understand that he was in Pankot, that he’d travelled up on the overnight train, was staying at the Summer Residence guest house and in the last few minutes had spoken to my mother on the phone and been given my Area
HQ
number and extension.

‘Has she rung you at all?’ he asked.

‘No, yours is the first call I’ve had. Why?’

He said, ‘In which case you probably won’t know Ronald Merrick’s here too. By chance I travelled up with him. He had our mutual friend Guy Perron in tow. Merrick’s with your parents now. He’s come to break some rather sad news to your father. A havildar from your father’s regiment who was in the Frei Hind force in Germany committed suicide the other day. Merrick thought your father might be very upset. He wanted to break the news to him himself.’

‘Yes. I see. I think he will be. Upset.’

‘Merrick’s now a half-colonel.’

‘What?’

‘He’s been promoted to Lieutenant-Colonel. Did you know?’

‘No, I didn’t, Nigel. The other thing I didn’t know was that he might also become my brother-in-law. Father told me this morning. He wants to marry Susan. And Susan wants to marry him.’

I may have got that wrong: the order in which things were said; but I plainly recollect then a very long silence. We were both trying to assimilate wholly unexpected bits of information: on my part, the poor havildar’s death, Ronald’s sudden and to me ominous presence in Pankot.

‘What do you think of him now that you’ve met him?’ I asked.

‘He wasn’t quite what I imagined.’

‘How long are you here for? I’d love to see you. Is today possible, or is
HE
in control?’

‘The Governor’s not here. There’s only a Mr Gopal. Actually your mother’s just asked me to have dinner at Rose Cottage tonight. I’d like that but I’m not sure whether I can make it. I’ve got a thing to do for
HE.
I’m free once I’ve done it but I’m not sure when that will be. Could you lunch here?’

‘You mean today?’

‘Yes. Come up as soon as you like.’

I could do that now, I said; and did – leaving the wounded stencil in the machine and looking in on Major Smalley to make the excuse that I was feeling off-colour but hoped to be back in the afternoon.

*

A man came down the steps as the tonga pulled up in front of the guest house. I hadn’t seen Nigel in mufti before and for a moment scarcely recognized him. A suit disguised some of the thinness which his uniform accentuated; he looked fitter, more relaxed, like a man released from some kind of duty which he’d found more and more difficult to do. We had never embraced. Just here, just now, an embrace would have seemed right, but we did as we’d done when parting in Ranpur; shook hands rather solemnly. He held my elbow as a token of support while we climbed the steps but at the top he
let go. We went through to the rear verandah which had the view I knew best – across the lawns to the closed Summer Residence – although I couldn’t recall just when I’d last seen it.

On a table between two white cane blue upholstered chairs were the several packages he’d brought up from the Samaritan. I thanked him but for the moment didn’t want to deal with them or even look at them. He ordered drinks, offered me a cigarette. While I smoked he told me something about the special job he had to do in Pankot. For the moment, at least until he’d had some word from Mr Gopal, he was more or less a prisoner at the guest house, since he might have to make himself available at any moment. He doubted, though, that this would be earlier than the following day.

‘So you might be able to come to dinner tonight?’

‘Yes, it’s very likely.’

‘And you might be here for a day or two at least?’

‘A day or two certainly.’

The drinks came. While he dealt with the steward I settled back in the cane chair considering how in two days Nigel and I might effectively collaborate to stop a marriage I was sure ought to be stopped. He could talk to my father. I would talk to Susan. The main problem was that Ronald was in Pankot too. So far I’d hardly taken in that fact and now that I did so and had time to consider the excuse Ronald had found to come up from Delhi, the havildar’s death seemed like something he had invented to suit his own ends, so that then I began to wonder what it could be that Barbie’s death had been invented for. My mind was racing, but I could feel my body settling into a posture of embattled indolence and could hear a voice warning me: Don’t say too much. Go carefully.

I’m trying to reproduce for you an occasion of awful disorientation. Failing probably. God knows how one could succeed.

‘Well when did all this happen?’ he asked. ‘Your sister and Ronald Merrick?’

‘I wish I knew. She’s never said anything to me. Not the slightest hint. But there it seems to be. According to father. I’ve not talked to Susan yet but father has. And apparently Ronald’s talked to him.’

‘Your sister is serious, then?’

‘So father believes.’

‘Does he approve?’

‘Let’s say he doesn’t know Ronald well enough not to.’

‘Nor well enough to give his consent immediately?’

‘The drawback is, consent’s not actually needed.’

‘No. Of course. So you have the impression it may be more or less fixed?’

‘If it is, I want to unfix it. I hoped you might help me.’

He said nothing. But his expression was kind. I went on: ‘It’s a lot to ask. But if there’s anything you can do to help, I’d be very grateful.’

He didn’t answer at once. Then he said it was difficult to see on what grounds he could. He didn’t know Susan at all. He and I had talked about Ronald only in general terms. He added, ‘Now that I’ve met him I can’t say he’s the kind of man I’d want to go out of my way to have much to do with. I suppose one has to assume some serious emotional involvement on your sister’s part. One’s instinct isn’t much to go on, if it comes to thinking of interfering.’

‘Is it only instinct, Nigel?’

He thought for several moments and then said, ‘From the family’s point of view I’d be concerned mainly about the possibility – I don’t say probability – the possibility of his name cropping up in any future fuss the politicians make about officers suspected of exceeding their duty in nineteen forty-two. Of course, there’s no need even to anticipate a fuss. But if there is a fuss, Merrick might be involved. Not that that would make the slightest difference to Susan, I imagine. Assuming a fondness. Nor to the family. But that’s all I can offer – as a practical argument against. Perhaps your father should be warned. About the possibility.’

‘I’ve already warned him. But it didn’t have much effect because Ronald’s already discussed that aspect of things with him. I was hoping you might dot a few i’s and cross a few t’s.’

He frowned, not at me but at his glass. He said, ‘Well there’s also the history of persecution, isn’t there, but you know more about that than I do. If it’s resumed, your sister could be hurt by it.’

‘I’ve told father about the persecution, but I think it just
makes him feel sorry for the man. And Ronald naturally has been very frank about the effect the Manners case could have on his career. It’s part of his technique. What I meant was being able to tell father something I don’t know. But which you might know. Something on a confidential file, for instance? I may be wrong, but whenever we’ve talked about Ronald you’ve always left me with the idea that you know far more than could be expected of a man who’d never met him. So. A file?’

After a while Nigel said, ‘I should think all a file would tell you about Colonel Merrick is that he left the comparative safety of the police for active service in the army and was decorated with the Distinguished Service Order, since when there has been a history of regular promotion, no doubt well-deserved.’

‘In which case there would be nothing much to fear from a political fuss later, would there, if the files show him as such a paragon?’

Hearing the sharp edge to my voice I suddenly pictured what perhaps I looked like – a hard-bitten little memsahib interfering in other people’s lives to stop herself shrieking with the boredom and frustration of her own – or (and perhaps Nigel wondered about this too) trying to stop a marriage because she coveted the man for herself, in spite of all she had ever said to the contrary about her attitude to him.

‘I’m sorry, Nigel, I shouldn’t try to involve you. It’s not your problem. I’d better ring home and tell them I won’t be back for lunch. Then I’ll go through this stuff of poor Barbie’s.’

He accompanied me inside, showed me where a telephone was and a bedroom-bathroom suite that I could use, should I want to; in fact, he said, the phone could be switched through to the one in the bedroom if I preferred that. The steward could get the number. I said that might be best and went into the bedroom, sat on the bed, waiting. The phone rang. Mother was at the other end. She said, ‘Where are you?’ I told her.

‘Good,’ she said. Apparently she had rung the daftar and had been expecting me to arrive at any moment, “off-colour”. She had rung to tell me Nigel Rowan was in Pankot and that if he got in touch I should do my best to persuade him to accept the
invitation to dinner at Rose Cottage. She added, ‘Presumably you know by now who else is here.’

‘Yes. Nigel told me. I’m sorry about the havildar. Is daddy very upset?’

‘Not too upset not to have invited Ronald Merrick to dinner this evening. I don’t want just a family dinner. I want Captain Rowan here too.’

‘He’ll come if he can.’

‘I want you to make sure he does. I must have another man at the table.’

‘If you want to make sure you’d better invite someone else. Nigel’s not definitely free. There’s always Edgar Drew.’

‘I said man, not boy. And a man of our own sort.’

‘Then ask Ronald to bring Guy Perron. I gather he’s brought him up to Pankot.’

‘So we’ve all gathered. We’ve all been having to admire the invisible feather in Colonel Merrick’s cap. Colonel! But you can hardly ask a colonel to bring his sergeant along even if there was a chance of his agreeing to. Which in this case there isn’t. What a pity the ranks aren’t the other way round. I want Captain Rowan.’

‘I can’t promise.’

‘I’m asking you to do so. I’m saying that the least you can do for me is to guarantee he’ll be here.’

‘The least?’

‘The least. He sounds to me the most presentable man you’ve ever bothered to get to know. In the circumstances, in
all
the circumstances, I should prefer it if you brought him into the open and remembered that this isn’t Calcutta, but Pankot.’

I said, very quietly, ‘Why do you want that, mother? So that Susan can take one look at him and decided he’s for her? I suppose that would solve everything from your point of view.’

‘Not quite everything,’ mother said. She put the phone down. A meaningless retort; the kind someone is stung into making out of sheer exasperation. I went into the bathroom so that I could calm down and stop shaking. I heard the telephone ringing again in the bedroom but before I could reach it – thinking it was mother calling back to apologize – it stopped, presumably because the call had been taken
elsewhere. Going through into the living-room I found Nigel taking the receiver from the steward. I indicated that I would go out to the terrace and did so. The steward followed and asked if I would have another drink. While waiting for it I stood by the balustrade and smoked and then, remembering the packages on the table, decided I might as well look at some of them. The first and bulkiest (containing something solid, like a book, and something soft) was marked:
In the Event of my Death: Dear Sarah.

Inside I found the butterfly lace which I hastily put down. The solid object was a book of Emerson’s essays. I remembered her fondness for them. A quick flip through the pages showed that many of the passages were underlined. I read several of these but found them tiresome and self-righteous. I put the lace back in the wrapping and left the book on the table. The other package, an envelope, contained several smaller envelopes, variously marked: To Sarah: Not to be Opened Before My Death. Private and Personal: To Colonel Layton’s daughter. To the Girl who Visits me. To the Girl with the fair helmet of Hair. To Whom it Might Concern. To Gillian Waller from a Friend.

Every glance – I found it too painful to give much more just then – and subsequent study showed heart-breakingly little except her continuing concern over the question of Mabel’s grave – evoked images of her distraction and how, as time went on, she seemed not to have recognized me. In the end she had even given me another name, Gillian Waller. It rang a bell, but I couldn’t remember why.

I stuffed the envelopes into my shoulder-bag and managed to push the lace in too. I didn’t want the lace for one particular reason. For the same reason I couldn’t throw it away. There remained the book. I picked it up again and was glancing through it when Nigel came out.

He said, ‘Good, that’s settled.’ He looked pleased. ‘Tomorrow. Probably in the evening.’

‘Which leaves you free for tonight?’

‘Yes.’

‘You know Ronald Merrick’s invited too?’

‘I wasn’t sure.’

‘I’ll make your excuses if that’s what you’d prefer.’

‘Would you prefer to dine here?’

‘I think that’s ruled out, Nigel. I’m not inventive enough to think of an excuse that would cover both of us.’

‘In which case I’ll come to Rose Cottage. Have the other half before we go into lunch.’

‘I’m having the other half.’

‘Well, have the next.’

‘No, this is fine. I’ve a stencil to finish this afternoon. But you’re one drink behind. You’d better catch up.’

He gave an order to the steward; then noticing that the packages had gone from the table leaving an unidentified book in their place he said, ‘Mystery cleared up?’

‘I don’t think there was much of a mystery after all but I haven’t looked through everything yet. I really am grateful though. Are you keen on Emerson?’

‘I don’t know him I’m afraid. Guy Perron’s the Emerson expert. He was quoting him last night.’