Secret for a Nightingale (4 page)

My father thanked the Emerys when I introduced them. The fiance was waiting for them and he took them off after we had promised to see each other soon.

“You were happy at Humberston?” my father asked me.

“Oh yes. They were good to me. But it isn’t home.”

He nodded.

“And the Emerys, they were good too?”

“Very good.”

“We shall have to see more of them. I shall have to thank them properly.”

“And what of everyone here? Ayah?”

“Oh, she is with the Freelings now. There are two children quite young. Mrs. Freeling is a rather frivolous young woman … attractive, they say.”

“I’m longing to see my ayah.”

“You will.”

“And the Khansamah?”

“A family man. He has two boys. He is very proud of himself. But come along. We must get home.”

And there I was, feeling as though I had never left.

But of course there were changes. I was no longer a child. I had my duties, and as the first days passed, I discovered that these could be demanding. I had come back, ‘finished’ as they say a young English lady fitted to sit at the Colonel’s table and fulfill the duties expected of me.

In a very short time I was caught up in the army life. It was like living in a little world of its own, surrounded by the strangeness of a foreign country. It was not quite the same as it had been, or perhaps I had lived in the imagination too long. I was more bothered by unsavoury detail than I had been in my childhood. I was more conscious of the poverty and disease;

I was less enchanted; and there were times when I thought rather longingly of cool breezes which used to blow across the ancient church and the peace of the garden with the lavender and buddleia, tall sunflowers and hollyhocks; then I began to feel a nostalgia for the gentle rain, for the Easter and Harvest

festivals. Of course my father was here; but I think that if I could have taken him with me I would have preferred to go to that place which had now become Home to me, as it was apparently to so many of those about me.

I took the first opportunity to go and see my ayah. Mrs. Freeling was delighted that I wished to call. I had quickly realized that my father’s position made everyone want to please him, and that meant pleasing his daughter also, and some of the wives were almost sycophantic, believing no doubt that to curry favour with the Colonel helped their husbands on the long road to higher rank.

The Freelings had a pleasant bungalow, surrounded by beautiful flowering shrubs whose names I did not know. Phyllis Freeling was young, very pretty, rather coquettish I thought, and I was sure I should not find her the most interesting of the wives. She fluttered round me as though I did her a great honour by visiting her. She gave me tea.

“We do try to keep up the English customs,” she told me.

“One must, mustn’t one. One doesn’t want to go native.”

I listened to her chatter, all the time wondering when I was going to see my ayah, which was the sole reason for my coming. She talked about the dance they were having soon.

“I dare say you will be on the committee. There are such preparations to be made. If you want a really good dressmaker, I can put you on to the very best.” She folded her hands and said in a voice with an Indian accent: ‘“The very best durzi in Bombay …” So he tells me and I have every reason to believe him. “

I accepted the tea and one of the little scented cakes.

“Khansamah is greatly honoured to make tea for the Colonel’s daughter,” I was told.

I asked about the children and the ayah.

“She is very good. The children are angels. They love Ayah and she is so good with them. Sometimes I wonder whether it is wise to leave them with a native … but what can one do? One has so many responsibilities … to one’s husband, to the regiment…”

At length I thought I could come to the reason for my visit. I reminded her that I wanted to see the ayah.

“But of course. She will be so honoured.”

I was taken to the nursery where the children were having their afternoon nap. She was sitting there waiting, for she knew I was coming.

We looked at each other; she had aged a little, which was natural in seven years.

I ran to her and threw my arms about her. I did not know what Mrs. Freeling thought and I did not care.

“Ayah,” I said.

“Missee SuSu.”

I felt deeply moved to hear the baby version of my name. I said: “I have thought of you often.”

She nodded. A servant came up and said something in a quiet voice to Mrs. Freeling.

“Well, I’ll leave you,” she said.

“I expect you would like to have a little chat.”

I thought that was tactful of her.

We sat down still looking at each other. We talked in whispers because of the sleeping children in the next room. She told me how she had missed me. The babalog Freelings were nice but they were not Missee Su-Su. There would never be another like her.

I told her about life in England, but I could see she found it difficult to visualize. She said there had been troubles throughout India and dangers . and there was more to come. She shook her head.

“There are murmurings. There are dark secret things … not good.”

She saw changes in me. I was not the same as the little girl who had left Bombay all those years ago.

“Seven years is a long time,” I reminded her.

“It seems long when much happens, short when it does not. Time is in the head.”

It was wonderful to see her again. I said: “I wish I could take you home with me.”

Her face was illumined by a dazzling smile.

“How I wish it. But you do not need an ayah now like the Freeling babalog.”

“Are you happy here. Ayah dear?”

She was silent and I felt a twinge of alarm as I saw the

shadow flit across her face. I was puzzled. Mrs. Freeling had not given me the impression that she would interfere in the nursery. I should have thought her ayah would have a free hand; more so than she had had with me, for then there had been Mrs. Fearnley to contend with.

She would be too loyal to tell tales of her mistress, I knew;

but I did feel uneasy.

She sensed this and said: “Nowhere could I be content as I was with you.”

I was deeply touched, and surprised that she could feel thus when I remembered how difficult I had been at times. Perhaps time was playing its old tricks in making what was past seem more rosy than it had actually been.

“I shall see you often now that I am here,” I said.

“I am sure Mrs. Freeling won’t mind my coming.”

She shook her head.

“You should not come here, Missee Su-Su. Not too much.”

“Why ever not?”

“Better not. We meet. Perhaps I come to you.” She lifted her shoulders.

“I am just Old Ayah … not yours any more.”

“What nonsense! You will always be mine. And why shouldn’t I come to see you? I shall insist. I am the Colonel’s Lady now. I shall make the rules.”

“Not here,” she said.

“No … no … that not good.”

I did not pursue the subject because I thought there might be some absurd notion in her mind about the propriety of the Colonel’s daughter visiting her old nurse in another household.

Her dark eyes were soulful and prophetic.

“You will go away,” she said.

“I do not see you here … for long.”

“You’re wrong. I shall stay with my father. I have not come all this way to go home again almost immediately. Do you realize how far it is, dear Ayah, right across the seas? I shall stay here, and we shall meet often. It will be like the old days … or almost.”

She smiled.

“Yes … no sadness. Do not let us talk of partings. You have just come. It is a happy day.”

“That’s better,” I said; and I plunged into conversation which was punctuated with “Do you remember when …” And it was

amazing how much of the past, which I thought I had forgotten, came back to me.

The children awoke and I was introduced to them. They were round-faced, chubby little creatures of about four and two, I guessed.

When I left them I went down to say goodbye to Mrs. Freeling.

She was sitting on a sofa and beside her was a young man. They rose as I entered.

“Oh, there you are,” said Mrs. Freeling.

“Miss Pleydell has been seeing her old ayah who happens to be mine now. Wasn’t that gracious of her!”

“It wasn’t,” I said.

“I happen to be very fond of her.”

“One is of one’s nanny. But I’m forgetting you don’t know each other.

This is Aubrey St. Clare. Aubrey, this is Miss Susanna Pleydell, the Colonel’s daughter. “

That was the first time I saw Aubrey, and I was immediately struck by his charm and good looks. He was about my height but then I was exceptionally tall. He had fair hair almost golden, vivid blue eyes, and his features were clear-cut.

He took my hand and pressed it firmly.

“What a pleasure to meet you!” he said.

“Do sit down. Miss Pleydell,” said Mrs. Freeling.

“You must have a drink. It’s a little early. But no matter. It is never really too early.”

I sat down beside him.

“You have just come back to India, I believe,” he said.

I explained.

“Fresh from school!” said Phyllis Freeling with a rather shrill, trilling laugh.

“Isn’t that exciting!”

“It must be,” he said, ‘to come back to India. Strange, exciting country, is it not. Miss Pleydell? “

I agreed that it was.

“Do you notice any changes?”

“I was so young when I went away ten years old, to be exact. I think I took a somewhat glamourized picture with me. Now I see it more as it really is.”

“Ah,” he said, ‘one of the penalties of growing up. “

I noticed that he was regarding me intently and I was pleasantly stimulated by his interest. I had known few young men only those who had lived in Humberston and friends of Uncle James and Aunt Grace. I had been very closely, though unobtrusively, guarded, I realized. Now I felt a certain freedom. Yes, I was now grown up. And it was exhilarating.

Aubrey St. Clare talked rather knowledgeably about India, which he appeared to know very well. I gathered he was not connected with the regiment. I wondered what he was doing in India but felt it would be impertinent to ask. Mrs. Freeling took charge of the conversation. I thought she was rather flirtatious with her visitor, and I wondered whether I thought so because I was still under the influence of the Humberston rectory where everything was conducted in a most conventional manner.

At length I said I must go and Aubrey St. Clare immediately rose and asked if he might take me home.

It was only a short way, I told him.

“Nevertheless …” he began, and Mrs. Freeling added: “Oh yes, you should have an escort.”

I thanked her for her hospitality and left with Aubrey St. Clare.

As I came out of the bungalow I looked back and saw a flutter of curtains. Ayah was standing at the window. Did I imagine it or did she really look disturbed?

After that I saw a great deal of Aubrey St. Clare. I became fascinated and flattered because he paid so much attention to me. He was attentive to Phyllis Freeling, but that seemed different because she was married.

My father liked him and I think he was pleased for me to have an escort. I gathered that he would have preferred us to have been in England where I could have been launched into society in the conventional manner. He was eager for me to enjoy life and he regretted that he did not have more time to spend with me.

Aubrey was charming. He had a wonderful personality that could change and be different according to the people he was with.

With my father he was serious and talked about the problems of India;

he told me about his travels round the world; he had been in Arabia;

he had met people of many races; he found exploring different cultures fascinating and he had a vivid way of expressing himself; yet with Mrs. Freeling he could be extremely frivolous, being exactly the sort of man whom I was sure she would find attractive. It was a great gift.

He was becoming my constant companion. My father was ready to let me go into the bazaars with him, although I should not have been allowed to go by myself. Things were not quite what they had been when I was a child here, he told me. There were undercurrents of unrest. The regiment was on the alert.

Oh, nothing serious, he insisted. But the natives were unpredictable.

They did not reason in quite the same way as we did. Therefore he liked me to go where I wanted but in the company of a strong man.

They were pleasant days.

I saw my ayah several times, but she was always uneasy about my going to the Freeling bungalow. I suggested that she come to us. She did once or twice, but it was difficult for her to get away. I knew something was bothering her but I could not guess what; and to tell the truth I was so caught up in all that was going on, particularly with my new friend, that I did not pay as much attention to her as I would otherwise have done.

One day when we were in the garden under the apricot trees, one of the boys brought us a cooling drink and Aubrey said to me: “I shall have to be thinking of going home soon.”

I was dismayed. I had never thought of his leaving and I suddenly realized how much I had begun to depend on his companionship. I felt vaguely depressed.

“I have had grave news from home,” he went on.

“I am sorry.”

“So am I. It’s my brother my elder brother. He’s ill. In fact I believe he cannot live very long. It will make a great deal of difference to me.”

“You are very fond of him.”

“We have never been great friends. There are only two of us and we are so different. He inherited everything … quite a large estate.

Since he has no children I shall take over everything if he dies, which it now seems certain that he will before very long. I doubt he can last another year. “

“How distressing for you.”

“So … I should be there. Soon I shall have to be making plans to leave.”

“We shall miss you.”