India Dark (32 page)

I left the dance floor and wandered outside. The Adyar River flowed lazily past the south verandah. I leaned against the balustrade next to Charlie, watching as two small boats rowed past the club towards the mouth of the river and the sea.

‘I wish we could jump in a boat and row away like that.'

‘I thought you wanted to stick around to see Mr Ruse cleared and Old Percy punished.'

I hung my head. ‘I'm so afraid, Charlie. They're going to call Daisy tomorrow. What if they ask me to take the witness stand too? Tilly will kill me if I change my story but I think I'd rather die.'

Charlie was silent for a long moment, staring out at the water. ‘I'd gladly run away. I hate being Lionel's brother. I hate the way everyone talks about him as if he's a sneaking ass.'

‘He can't hear what they say behind his back,' I said.

‘That doesn't make it any better.'

I couldn't stop a sigh escaping from between my lips.

We both propped our chins on our elbows and stared out at the river.

‘What are those lights, over there?' I asked.

‘That's the Theosophical Society Headquarters,' said Charlie.

‘Where Mrs Besant lives?'

Charlie nodded.

‘Charlie!' I cried. ‘That's the answer. Mrs Besant can help us. We won't have to stay with the others any more. We won't have to go to court either. And she'll know what to do. She can help you and me and Lionel. Maybe she can even help Lizzie. We have to throw ourselves on Mrs Besant's mercy. '

‘I don't think that's a very good idea,' said Charlie.

I stepped close to him and cupped my hands, whispering hot and warm into the shell of his ear. ‘We can take a boat across. Please, Charlie. Please. If you won't come, I'll row myself there. Please.'

He pulled my hands away and held my wrists tightly, studying my face. ‘You can't, Poesy,' he said.

‘I have to. I can't go to court tomorrow. I simply can't say those things that I said in my statement.'

‘What did you say, Poesy?'

I couldn't tell him. ‘Please come away with me, Charlie.' The Adyar Club ladies had decided to put us up at the Club for the night so Charlie and I waited until after lights out and then met in the shadows of the Club. We stumbled past the badminton courts until the ground grew squishy beneath us and we knew we were drawing closer to the boat ramp.

‘I wish I'd thought of doing this sooner. You must know this is the right thing to do, Charlie. Mrs Besant says there is no religion higher than Truth,' I said, tugging at the rope that held the rowboat. ‘So I'm going to tell her the truth. I'm going to confess everything.'

The Adyar River was blue-black in the darkness, like a river of ink flowing down to the warm sea.

I could see the Theosophical Society, a shadowy grey building against the dark undergrowth. The moon rose over the sea and cast a blue light on the water. I flinched when a black fish jumped near the boat. Drawing closer to the southern shore, there was a dense forest of mangroves. Charlie steered us into a safe haven and climbed out first, tying the boat to the twisty root of a blackened tree.

‘What if there are snakes or tigers?' I asked, suddenly fearful.

Charlie put his hand out to me. ‘We'll be all right,' he said.

We walked into the forest, through a tangle of banyan tree roots. There was a light on in a grand old building ahead of us, but suddenly it switched off and we were plunged into darkness. We stood among the roots of the banyan tree, holding hands. Charlie looked at me. I could see his eyes shining, as if what little light was in the forest was coming from inside him. ‘Poesy,' was all he said, the single word an admonition.

‘I know. She won't want to help us,' I said. ‘We're actors, not Indians or avatars or anyone important. We're kids caught up in a stupid fight.' I sat down in the dry grass and red dust. ‘I'm such an idiot.'

‘It was a bit of a nutty idea,' said Charlie. ‘But you meant well. I can row us back now and no one will know. I'm glad we came. It's good to remember I can still slip away so easily.'

I started to sob. It hurt my chest. It hurt every part of me.

‘Oh Charlie, you can't run away. If you leave the troupe, I'll have no one. You can't stay in India, you simply can't.'

‘I know,' he said, slumping down on the ground beside me.

The moon shone through the roots of the banyan tree and cast shadows across his body. He looked like a strange animal, crouching in the grass beside me. Suddenly, I realised he was crying too.

‘I can't leave Lionel. Not now. He's trapped, and because of him I'm trapped too. Once old man Percy loses the case, and he will lose, Lionel will have to come back to the troupe. Everyone will be cruel to him and Freddie and Max will bully him. If he had to go home and face Ma alone, after all this, it would kill him. I can't abandon him.'

‘What are we going to do?' I said, putting my head on his shoulder.

‘You have to finish what you've started and I have to stick by Lionel.'

We sat for a long time beneath the banyan tree. I took Charlie's hand in mine and held it in my lap because touching him made everything seem less frightening. Then I held his hand to my face and kissed his palm. It was only a little kiss. It was only meant to be a ‘thank you'. But suddenly our faces were close to each other, the warm evening air seemed to squeeze the breath from me and I pressed my lips against his. He smelt of the river, of sugar, of sulphur, of heat and dark. He was so still it was as if his body had turned to stone, but his lips were like soft, warm butter. Then he pushed my face away, very gently, and put his arms around me. He held me as if I might break, he held me as if I was made of glass.

For a long time we sat like that, fragile and silent. I wanted to kiss Charlie again but I was too afraid of what might follow. The moon rose over the river and the gardens, and the night was full of sound, of scuttling creatures and night birds, of insects and the lapping of the Adyar. Charlie and I were silent, as if we were both waiting for something so dangerous that we dared not speak its name.

Suddenly I understood. I understood why Lizzie had given up everything for Mr Arthur. I turned to Charlie and stole another kiss.

I kept my lips pressed to his until he pushed me away.

‘What's wrong?' I asked.

‘I forgot to breathe,' he said.

Suddenly we were both laughing like little children, lying beneath the banyan tree giggling until our sides hurt, until we had forgotten our pain and our kisses.

57

THE TRIAL

Tilly Sweetrick

Every morning before we left the hotel, I inspected every Lilliputian. We had to dress carefully for court. We had to look as innocent as the day. The boys wore dark shorts, black stockings and white shoes and they'd brushed their fringes so much that the hair stuck to their foreheads. We girls wore our best dresses with black stockings and either black boots or white sandshoes to match the boys.

The High Court was grander than the Maharajah of Mysore's old palace, with its turrets and towers, and barristers in black gowns flapping across the dusty courtyards. We climbed wide stairways and walked along black-and-white tiled corridors lined with dark wood panelling to reach our courtroom.

Little squares of coloured light fell from the high windows and speckled our white dresses with patches of red and green and gold. We sat in a group, the fans spinning lazily above our heads and the polished benches growing warm beneath us, and watched our fate unfold.

Mr Ruse had organised us a most delicious barrister, Mr Browning. He and Mr Bowes found witnesses from all over Madras who spoke in our favour. The only witnesses that the Butcher had been able to find to speak on his behalf were his little
toady bacha
, Lionel, and that old
chamcha
, Mr Shrouts.

When it was finally the Butcher's turn to take the stand, after weeks of evidence, he positively writhed in the witness box.

Mr Browning tore him to shreds. Every tatty little piece of the Butcher's follies and mismanagement was brought to light and every lie exposed. When Mr Browning started to question the Butcher about our education, you could see a ripple of disgust move across the gallery. It was hilarious. The more the Butcher tried to defend himself, the deeper he dug his own grave.

‘The bigger girls taught the little ones in the afternoon,' he said.

Ruby and I looked at each other and smirked.

‘But you claimed in an interview with a newspaper reporter in Calcutta that Myrtle Jones was a teacher registered with the Australian government.'

‘All right,' admitted the Butcher. ‘I said Myrtle was a teacher for advertising purposes.'

‘What is that supposed to mean?' asked Mr Browning.

‘When she was asked, she was to say she was a schoolmistress. Look, she's not been much with the Company so she ought to be educated. I've seen her write her name – she's not a complete fool.'

Myrtle looked a little hurt at this, but some of us stifled a giggle. She did have simply the worst handwriting.

‘The success of the company depends on the goodwill of the public,' continued the Butcher slowly, as if he was explaining something to a crowd of idiots. ‘Stories of gross cruelty or improper conduct on the part of a manager would affect our success, so of course I will defend our public interests. Meddlesome people have interfered but this company is of a professional standard. I've had no trouble anywhere else.'

‘I believe the Police Commissioner was called to investigate in Bombay?' said the lawyer.

‘That was because of a meddlesome person from Melbourne. The report emanated from
Melbourne
, not Bombay. Can't you see, the girls are lying?' the Butcher almost shouted. ‘Ruby Kelly and Matilda Sweeney wanted to go back to Melbourne to work in the variety shows. That's all. They are lying to have their own way.'

‘Miss Kelly and Miss Sweetrick, whom you refer to as “Sweeney”, are not the only children who have given evidence of your immoral behaviour. Other children have said that you hit them and took money to buy drink.'

The Butcher gripped the balustrade of the witness box, trying to contain his rage. He leaned forward and spoke so slowly it seemed he was having trouble breathing.

‘They are lies. None of the accusations are true.'

‘Are you suggesting that Miss Poesy Swift is a liar?'

I could feel Poesy stiffen in her seat beside me. Thank goodness the Butcher didn't look at her as he replied. It would have unravelled the witless girl.

‘She's a lovely child,' said the Butcher. ‘And an asset to the company.'

‘Can you suggest why clean-minded children should speak against you?'

Arthur looked straight at Ruse. ‘Some dirty-minded people set them to do it.'

‘Who are the dirty-minded people you refer to?'

‘I can't say,' said Mr Arthur, but he glared at Mr Ruse as if he wanted to set him on fire with the fury of his gaze.

‘What reasons do you suggest led these people to act?'

‘To get the Lilliputian Company on the cheap. To steal my company and my livelihood from me.'

I wanted to yawn then. I was so sick of him. I wanted to walk right up to the witness box and yawn in his face. They were going over and over the same old thing. But then they got to the part where Iris was ill and was taken home and the Butcher shot himself in the foot. Mr Browning detailed how the Butcher carried Iris out of the theatre and put her in the gharry. Then he looked up and asked, ‘Do you often carry the girls about?'

‘We carry the smaller children home on our shoulders when there is no gharry to take them,' replied the Butcher.

‘Did you ever carry Eliza Finton?' asked Mr Browning slyly.

The Butcher jumped up in his seat. ‘How dare you! How dare you make such a suggestion.'

Mr Browning looked even slyer and foxier. ‘Why do you get so angry?'

‘How dare you imply I would carry her in public! She is a grown woman.'

‘She has her hair down her back in the style of a girl. Answer the question.'

‘No!' shouted Mr Arthur.

The judge banged his gavel for the hundredth time that morning and ordered Mr Browning to take a different line of questioning, but Mr Browning said he was finished with the witness and would like to call Mr Ruse to the box.

When the Butcher slipped past Mr Browning's table we saw him mutter something, and then Mr Browning jumped to his feet. ‘As the witness passed me he called me a “dirty ruffian”,' he announced.

‘I did not,' said the Butcher stiffly.

There was much argument and to-ing and fro-ing and then the judge said he hadn't heard it either but he cautioned the Butcher anyway. I'd never realised how childish grown-ups could be.

It was lovely to see Mr Ruse in the witness box. He looked so much more intelligent than the Butcher. He presented his evidence in a calm, well-spoken manner and the judge nodded sagely as Mr Ruse was asked to relate the details of what happened on the night of the strike. Of course, he told the truth. But the Butcher couldn't bear to hear it. He leapt to his feet and shouted at the top of his voice, ‘You took them away by a show of force!'

‘I never laid a finger on you,' said Mr Ruse.

‘As if I'd be fool enough to provoke violence when you had twenty of your cronies to back you up!'

‘I am not a kidnapper. I have never heard of a more ridiculous accusation in my life.'

‘You've stolen those children from me. Poisoned their affections.'

‘You poisoned them yourself,' countered Ruse in disgust.

The judge banged his gavel for order and the turbaned court officers came bustling to the front to lead the Butcher away.

I was enjoying myself immensely until I turned to look at Poesy. I should have realised the Butcher's flattery would unhinge the child. Her eyes were brimming with tears but it wasn't because of him. She was looking straight at Eliza and Lionel, the lover and the lackey, huddled together on a bench behind the Butcher's
babu vakil
.