The Peacock Spring (21 page)

‘It’s just that . . . Alix, you must confess.’ It was jerked out.

‘Confess? To a priest? Or to Edward?’ Alix was mocking.

‘To Edward.’ Una made herself be steady.

‘And what do I have to confess?’

‘First . . . about the whisky . . . for your mother.’

‘Ah! At least you do me justice that it was for her, not to sell in the bazaar.’ For a moment Alix broke. ‘Una, you have seen her and know she has to have it. How else can I
get it? Indian whisky’s so bad and you know the price of Scotch. Edward gives me everything but he only pays me a little.’

‘Ask him for more.’

‘Ask Edward for
money
! That shows,’ said Alix, ‘how little you understand how things are between him and me.’

‘That’s beside the point. The point is you must tell him.’

‘I have told you I will – but in my own time. I must wait.’

‘Dino can’t wait.’ The words were inexorable but Una still felt that pity. ‘I do understand, but tell him, Alix; tell everything from the beginning, about your troubles
and your mother and Mr Lobo. Tell him why Chaman Lal Sethji sent you away. The real reason.’

‘You have ferreted that out? Ferreted everything.’ At each name Alix had grown more taut and, it seemed, taller. She was breathing hard but Una was so much in earnest she had
forgotten all caution.

‘Tell him how it was you took the whisky – and why. Tell him even about the maths. Edward is a loving person. You can trust him, Alix. Tell.’

‘What if I won’t?’

‘There isn’t a won’t. You must.’

‘“Must” is a word you can’t use to me,’ said Alix, ‘but I can use it to you. You must remember you are only a little schoolgirl who should keep her nose out
of other people’s business. I am here to teach you and I am going to teach you a lesson – in obedience. We shall begin with quite a little thing. Get on Mouse.’

‘I have told you – I won’t.’

‘Get on Mouse.’ Alix was advancing, her thonged whip in her hand.

‘Alix! You wouldn’t hit me?’ Una could not believe it. She backed close against Mouse.

‘If you don’t get on Mouse, I shall whip you.’

‘Don’t be absurd.’ Sheer disbelief gave Una courage and she said disdainfully, ‘You can’t whip someone of fifteen.’

‘I can whip an impertinent child. Get on Mouse.’

No answer.

‘Very well then,’ said Alix. ‘Stand away from that pony.’ But Una did not move.

‘Una, I warn you once more; get on Mouse. If you don’t I shall hit you.’

‘Hit me then,’ said Una and turned her back.

The plaited lash of the whip whistled in the air and fell across her shoulders. It cut and stung but Una shrugged.

The shrug was enough – or too much; the lash fell again with all Alix’s strength behind it as Mouse snorted and plunged and pulled.

‘You are insolent,’ Alix panted. ‘Insolent from the first moment when I held out my hand to you. I held out my hand but you wouldn’t take it. You worked against me,
ferreted, gossiped, and I tell you why – because you are jealous. You don’t want Edward to be happy. Let him have love. So . . .’ For the third time the whip whistled as the lash
came down, but Mouse plunged so heavily that she pulled Una over on to the grass and Alix caught herself up with a sob. Then, her voice shaking, she said, ‘Now will you get on
Mouse?’

‘I . . . can’t,’ said Una on the ground.

There was the sound of hooves and someone came cantering through the trees. It was Mrs Porter; stocky and heavy, her khaki breeches and shirt did not become her, but her seat was firm, her hands
skilled as she guided her mare towards them but, under an old-fashioned felt hat, she looked flushed and anxious. ‘I found your syces . . . agitated.’ There was a pause before the
words, ‘I’m afraid I don’t speak Hindi and could only understand “Miss-baba”. Has there been an accident, Miss Lamont?’ Then she saw Una on the ground.

‘Why, Una!’ and she was off her mare and came leading it, looking from Alix’s ravaged face to Una.

‘Mouse got away,’ said Alix. ‘Una came off and was dragged, I just managed to catch them on Maxim.’ The way Alix shook was convincing.

‘Is she badly hurt?’

‘Winded . . . that’s all.’ The words came in gasps from Una. ‘Not h-hurt?’

‘Hold Mary-Jane.’ Mrs Porter gave her mare to Alix and bent over Una. ‘There’s blood on her shirt.’

‘Back’s . . . a bit . . . scratched.’

‘I must get her to the car.’ Alix tied the mare beside Maxim.

‘If we helped you up,’ Mrs Porter’s hands went over Una’s legs and thighs, ‘I think there’s nothing broken. If we helped you up, could you sit on your pony?
We will lead you.’

‘Not . . . Mouse.’ Una shuddered.

‘Get on Mary-Jane then. She’s dead quiet. Come – I will help you. Come. Slowly. Gently. That’s a brave girl,’ Mrs Porter coaxed.

In the dusk Edward came running down the steps to meet the car. ‘He couldn’t have heard already,’ said Alix, mystified, but the agitation was not for Una.
‘Where have you been? For God’s sake, Alix! Things are frantic. I telephoned but you were out. Out – and we have no Dino and you have the keys. Five of the Danish delegates have
turned out to be women so I have had to ask as many of our Indian guests as I could get hold of to bring their wives.’ Then, as he saw Alix come round to Una’s door to help her out.
‘What has happened?’

‘Una’s had a fall,’ which was truer than the explanation given to Mrs Porter. A fall, yes, and a shameful fall.

‘A fall – God! How badly is she hurt?’

‘She’s not hurt, just a bit stunned and scratched.’

‘I will carry her in.’

‘I . . . can . . . walk,’ said Una.

‘She can, Edward.’ To him Alix was blessedly calm. ‘Here are the keys – let Aziz take out more stores: cigarettes and cigars; drink; chocolates. I will get Una to bed.
She will be all right if she lies down.’

‘You are sure? She looks terribly white.’

‘If I’m not sure, I will get Doctor Gottlieb. How many more guests?’

‘At least fifteen . . . How can we . . . ?’

‘Don’t worry. There is plenty of food, but it’s nearly seven o’clock. You had better go and change. Tell Aziz and Christopher I will be with them in ten minutes. Come,
Una.’

‘I can . . . go . . . by myself,’ said Una, ‘and I’m not stunned. I’m stiff, that’s all.’ Painfully she negotiated the steps. ‘You had better go
yourself and see to things,’ she told Alix, but Alix followed her to her room.

‘I must look at your back.’

At that Una flamed. ‘If you dare to touch me I shall telephone Mrs Porter. Go away. Leave me alone.’

Edward was hovering in the hall. ‘Is she all right? Hell! Wouldn’t it happen now!’

‘She has had a fright – and I expect she will be stiff and sore in the morning. Now don’t fuss,’ said Alix. ‘Everything is in hand. Chinaberry has gone for extra
plates, cutlery and glasses and I will see they are clean. Christopher is quite happy. Do as I told you – go and change.’

‘Alix.’ He caught her hand. ‘I want you to put on that white and gold dress. You will receive with me.’

‘But Edward . . . ‘

‘Do as I say. I won’t have you kept in the background any longer – and wear your ring.’

‘It . . . will be an open declaration.’

‘All the better,’ said Edward. ‘It’s only a matter of weeks before everybody knows.’

‘Your Indian friends won’t like it.’

‘Then they can go home,’ and Edward went to his room.

‘Telephone, Sahib.’

‘Not now, Ram. I am dressing.’

‘Is Porter Memsahib, Sahib. I tell her Sahib is dressing, but she say is urgent. She must speak.’

‘Hell!’ said Edward, and went to the telephone.

‘Edward? Edward, I want you to come straight over here – now!’

‘Now! My dear Gussie! In a few minutes I shall have something like seventy guests.’

‘I don’t care if you have three hundred.’

‘Can’t it keep till the morning?’

‘No. I must see you. You must come.’

‘I can give you five minutes, Gussie, no more,’ said Edward in the Porters’ embassy house.

‘Then I’ll be brief. You know Miss Lamont and Una were riding? So was I. When I drove up to the parade ground I found your syces – not in agitation, indignation,
Edward.’

‘Well? I know Una had a fall. She said she was all right, but Alix – Miss Lamont – has put her to bed.’

‘But what did she do first?’

‘What do you mean?’

‘I don’t know,’ said Mrs Porter. ‘That is the trouble.’ She was concerned and distressed. ‘Miss Lamont said Una came off and was dragged. If Una had been
dragged, she would have been dusty, her clothes torn, her arms grazed. She was clean.’

‘What do you think happened then?’

‘That is your duty to find out.’ Mrs Porter put her hand on his. ‘Edward, wake up. Una was – cowering. There was blood coming through her shirt.’

Edward put Mrs Porter’s hand away and rose, looking at her with distaste. ‘You are trying to insinuate that Alix –
Alix
did something to Una? Alix, who is so devoted? I
know Delhi is noted for backbiting, for intrigue and gossip, but I never imagined this – and I may as well tell you, Gussie – you are speaking of my future wife.’

‘You are going to
marry
Miss Lamont?’

‘As soon as her decree is made absolute.’

‘Miss Lamont – after Kate!’ It was Mrs Porter’s outspoken honesty. ‘Forgive me, Edward, I shouldn’t have said that.’

‘You certainly should not.’

‘I had forgotten there was Hal’s mother,’ but there was still genuine sorrow in Mrs Porter’s voice as she made a plea. ‘In that case, let me have Una to look after
until she can go back to Cerne.’

‘Thank you.’ Edward was icy. ‘But Una is perfectly well looked after where she is. Goodnight.’

When it was dark, Una crept out.

She had not been able to face changing and now her shirt was stuck to her back; the welts were stiffening. Ram Chand had brought her a tray of food, but when he looked at her had clucked, taken
it away and come back with a glass of hot sugared milk. I suppose I am in a state of shock, thought Una. Why else was she shivering on this warm night?

‘Baba, go to bed.’

‘Yes, Ram, I will,’ but Una had sat on in her chair, listening to the noise and voices until, with darkness, the guests left the garden and verandahs and went indoors; then she put
the familiar dummy in her bed and stole out. From her verandah she could see, through lighted windows and doors, a crowd of people, hear the chatter and laughter, the clatter of knives and forks on
plates. She had a glimpse of Alix, regal in a white dress brocaded with gold – as if the gold were stars for Alix triumphant. Una caught her breath in a sob. She smelled cigar smoke; two men
came towards her, pacing the lawn, talking as they smoked; she shrank back behind a pillar.

She had meant to go to the hut but found herself too shamed and sick at heart. When the men turned, pacing back, she made her painful way to the summer house, helping herself by the pillars of
the pavilion and the fountain; its small sound seemed loud in the garden’s quietness. She sank down on the wooden chair and dropped her head on her arms on the table; the movement hurt so
much that she gave a cry.

It was only one cry but Ravi heard it. He had come out to set the deeva light by his tulsi bush. ‘I did not want to do it before with all those people in the garden.’ Arrested,
straining to see in the dark, his eyes caught a pale shape in the summer house and, holding the deeva in his hand, shielding its flame with the other, he came swiftly across the lawn.
‘Una!’

‘Ssh! There are guests, men, still in the garden.’

‘I thought you were still at the party,’ Ravi whispered.

She shook her head, no longer able to speak. Ravi, holding the tiny light, looked from her face to the rigid lines of her body, her clenched hands – she had clenched them in an effort not
to cry out again. He took in the fact that she was still in riding clothes, that her hair was tumbled, and her shirt . . . Ravi held the light closer, put out a finger and touched the shirt.
‘What are those marks?’

‘I . . . think . . . they are blood.’

‘Did
she
do this?’ Ravi was stunned as Una nodded.

‘Where’s your father?’

‘At . . . the party. They all are.’

‘Is he blind?’

‘He didn’t . . . think to look.’

‘Didn’t think to look! She did this to you!’

‘Because I faced her. I tried to make her tell, but I couldn’t do it, Ravi. I failed you all. I went to her room and she . . .’ A sob was forced out.

‘Took you out and beat you up – I knew you had gone riding – beat you. How?

‘With . . . her whip. It had a . . . a lash.’

‘And no one has been to you . . . seen to you.’ Ravi gritted his teeth.

‘She tried. I wouldn’t let her. Now, they are all at the party. Ravi, you must help me,’ but Ravi shrank.

‘I might hurt you. I am not used . . .’

‘Please.’ But, ‘Go back to your room,’ said Ravi. ‘I will fetch Hem. He will know what to do.’

‘Hé Bhagwan!’ said Ravi when he saw Una’s back. ‘My God!’

Hem had come, bringing with him a small bag. ‘So you are a real big doctor,’ Ravi would have teased him at any other time. They were in Una’s bathroom where she had bent over
the basin while, with warm water and cotton wool, Hem had competently soaked away the blood-dried shirt and the welts were revealed in three angrily red and swelled stripes across Una’s back.
‘Hé Bhagwan! We’ll go to her room tonight, Hem and I, and thrash
her
!’ Though the party was noisy they spoke in whispers but even in a whisper Ravi was savage.
‘Thrash her!’

‘That
would
be wise,’ said Hem. ‘Put the police on your trail again and what good would it do Una?’

‘Police . . . ?’ Even in her dizziness and pain, Una had heard.

‘I have not told you but I have been in prison,’ Hem said quickly.

‘You said “your trail,” not “my trail” to Ravi.’

Hem did not answer, only said, ‘Hold tightly to the basin. I am putting on a spray. It will be cold and may sting.’

It did. Una swayed so that Ravi had to hold her while Hem covered the stripes with gauze. ‘Now – see if you can find her nightclothes,’ he told Ravi.