Where Earth Meets Sky (18 page)

It’s lovely!
she thought, wiping the condensation from the window. She was filled with a sense of exaltation, immediately liking it even more than Simla. She saw Mussoorie’s buildings scattered across the hillsides among the trees, the dark peaks of the foothills ringed with cloud, and she felt at home. She found herself sending up a prayer that she would like Dr McBride and his wife and that she could stay on and on here with them in this little paradise in the clouds. But it seemed too much to hope that she could have as happy a situation again as she had found with the Fairfords and she was full of nerves waiting to see her new home. It seemed a good omen, though, that the rain had stopped.

At last the bus jerked to a halt and Lily climbed down, and stood at a loss for a moment before an elderly bearer approached her, a lean man in a
dhoti
with a shawl wrapped round him.

In Hindi she told him what she needed and mentioned Dr McBride’s name. Taking her bag, which he swung up on to the pad on his head, he beckoned to her and set off up the steep, narrow street through the town. The path was still running with water after the heavy shower and all the shop awnings were dripping and hanging with sparkling water droplets. Lily caught glimpses of the food stores, chemists and drapers of Mussoorie before they turned into a quieter side street where they had to edge round two cows which stood ruminatively obstructing the path. At the end of the street suddenly they were facing out over the mountain valley and he led her to a steep little flight of steps, from the top of which she could see over the roof of a large bungalow below.

‘This Dr McBride house,’ the bearer said, setting off down the steps with goat-like agility in his loose sandals.

Like most of the buildings in Mussoorie, as in Simla, the McBrides’ house was perched on the edge of the mountainside with a sheer drop below it, looking out over a dark valley flecked with white flags of cloud. Across the valley was a similar hillside dotted with other yellow and white painted dwellings. At the back of the house Lily saw a tiny garden, with well-tended flowerbeds. At first glance, the place looking promising.

‘Come, Missy,’ the bearer called her. Her young, pretty looks evidently did not qualify her as a memsahib.

A moment later, the door opened, and Lily first saw a very large, thin, curving grey dog, and behind it, she glimpsed Dr Ewan McBride.

‘Miss Waters, I presume?’

Lily found herself facing a large, powerful-looking man. His body filled the doorway and the main impression she had of his face was of two stone-grey eyes and a thick, grizzled beard.

‘It’s all right’ – he glanced down at the dog – ‘this is Cameron. He won’t hurt you. Wolfhounds are very gentle creatures.’

The dog did have mild-looking eyes and he seemed quite timid. She could very easily have been intimidated, however, by the imposing presence and deep-voiced Scottish accent of the doctor, but she was determined not to be overawed. She stood up, straight and self-possessed, and looked directly back at him.

‘Yes, Dr McBride. I am Lily Waters. I take it you have been expecting me?’

‘Expecting you?’ He was suddenly irascible. ‘We most certainly have! We’ve been expecting you for the past three days! . . . Yes, yes . . .’ He paid the bearer off and the man trotted away, apparently satisfied. ‘Come in, come in.’

‘Well, I don’t know why that would be,’ Lily said, following him into the hall. There was a very large oil painting of a waterfall facing the front door. ‘I said in my letter that I should be here on the eighteenth, and here I am.’

‘So you are,’ he admitted. He seemed like someone who was unused to ordinary conversation. It was strange to her after Charles Fairford’s easy social manner. ‘I had the fifteenth in mind. My mistake. We’ll get you settled in your room, let you rest, and then we can talk about things, um? I expect you’d like some tea?’

‘That would be very nice, thank you,’ Lily said. She smiled, and Dr McBride attempted to smile back, which barely lifted the gloom from his face.

To her surprise, Dr McBride did not summon a servant to take her to her room, but picked up her bag and led her there himself. His portly frame blocked the light along the darkened corridor, so that she had only an impression of alternating surfaces underfoot, floorboards and rugs, and the dark shapes of pictures on the walls. He opened the door right at the end.

‘There – this one’s for you,’ he said rather curtly. ‘The tea’ll be along in a few moments. Everything you need, I hope?’

Lily gasped when she went into her room. It was simple enough in itself: a wooden bed, with a rich red coverlet, its legs resting on a large bamboo mat, a small writing table and chair, an armchair and stool. Someone, to her surprise, had left a little jug of flowers on the table by the bed and she wondered who in this household would have added such a touch. But it was the view from the window which captivated her. Apart from one other house, nestling into the hillside to the left and a school below, all she could see was a wide panorama of the black mountain peaks, with puffs of white cloud hanging in the valleys between and gathered in heaped piles against the grey sky behind. Dark birds were wheeling across the white cloud. It was one of the most lovely sights she had ever seen. And this was to be the view she looked out on every day!

A shy servant girl brought her some tea and Lily sat on the chair by the window, unable to tear her eyes from the sight. Gradually the cloud thickened and the rain began to fall again until it was rattling hard on the roof. It felt cosy in the room, though it was a strange feeling sitting there wondering who else was in the house. She wondered if it was the young servant who had left her the flowers.

Soon she grew sleepy after the long hours of travel, and lay down on the bed, thinking about the doctor. He seemed a gruff, austere man and she knew she felt nervous of him, but he had not been unpleasant. Wondering what his wife might be like, she fell asleep.

Her first sight of Mrs McBride was later that evening.

The young girl who had brought her tea woke her and said haltingly that Dr McBride wanted her, if she was ready. Lily quickly washed her face and hands and followed her. She was struck by the fact that so far, this girl, who only looked about twelve, was the only servant she had seen. When asked, the girl told Lily her name was Prithvi.

‘Thank you for the flowers,’ Lily said.

‘No, no,’ the girl assured her at once. ‘That was Miss Brown.’

With no further explanation she led Lily to Dr McBride’s dimly lit study, where the walls were lined almost completely with shelves of books. Entering the room, she found him sitting at his desk, a curved pipe in his mouth and surrounded by a haze of sweet-smelling pipe smoke. Cameron the wolfhound was lying close to his feet. The room contained dark furniture, with thick rugs on the floor, and smelled of a combination of pipe smoke and damp dog.

‘Ah, Miss Waters.’ He stood up with a slight grunt and gestured at a chair in front of the desk. ‘Do be seated.’

This was all rather unusual, Lily thought as she obeyed. In most households it was the mistress who dealt with the new staff, but Mrs McBride was evidently not well enough.

‘I hope you’re rested?’ he asked, sinking back into his chair.

‘Yes, thank you.’ She sat looking demurely at him. She guessed his age to be about fifty. There was a silence and she wondered if she was expected to say more, but she was distracted suddenly by a loud squawk which came from somewhere behind Dr McBride’s desk and a strange, chirpy voice said, ‘Afternoon!’ with a definite Scottish accent. Seeing her astonishment, Dr McBride smiled for the first time.

‘Ah – now that’s Mimi . . . Are you being a cheeky girl, now? Come – see . . .’

Lily moved to where she was bidden and found herself looking into the mischievous, beady eyes of a black, yellow-billed bird in a cage which stood on a table in a dark corner of the room.

‘She’s a mynah,’ he told her. ‘They like to mimic . . .’

‘Afternoon!’ the bird offered again, with such apparent spirit that Lily laughed.

‘Yes, she’s good company.’ The doctor indicated that she should sit again. He seemed uncomfortable, glancing at her and away. Beneath his austere, clipped exterior, she saw, there was a shy man. She also sensed an odd intensity.

‘I’d better tell you a little about us,’ he began in his rumbling voice. ‘You’ve come here as a sort of housekeeper, and that’s the long and short of it really. Muriel, my wife, has been an invalid for some years now and she doesn’t like to be fussed over by a whole gaggle of natives. She has a nurse, from Cambridge, and we have a cook – a Eurasian fellow, Stephen. Other than that, there’s the little girl you saw who does some fetching and carrying and an older woman who comes in to clean. We get by, you see. But we felt another face was needed in the house to oversee everyone. The household has become somewhat chaotic and I’m too busy – patients to see to and so forth. Even a bit of cooking might be required – Stephen’s family seem to suffer one crisis after another. Could you manage that?’

Lily was surprised by his rather humble expectations of his servants.

‘I’ve done some cooking,’ she volunteered. After all, she had looked after a family before she was ten years old – she could take on anything and master it, she knew that! But she wasn’t going to tell Dr McBride such a thing. ‘Though you’d have to let me know what you prefer. As for the rest, I’m sure I can help you.’

‘Your references were exemplary. Done the job before, eh?’

‘No, sir.’ She looked into his eyes. ‘I was a nanny before.’

‘Ah.’ He made a small coughing sound, glancing down for a moment. ‘That is not a service that will be required here, I’m afraid. No, no, indeed. Anyway . . .’ He stood up. ‘Before we all dine you’d better come and meet my wife, and Miss Brown our nurse.’

Lily followed him along the corridor to one of the doors, on which he gave a tactful knock and opened it only after invitation from a small sound from within. Inside, Lily saw that the room was a larger, grander version of hers, facing outwards with a sweeping view of the hills between the bronze-coloured curtains. In the monsoon gloom she saw the bed, quite close to the window, with a small form lying on it. She quailed inwardly at the sickroom atmosphere.

Standing beside the bed, stirring something into a glass, was a European woman whose age it would have been hard to guess, a task made the more difficult by a nurse’s veil which hid her hair, leaving visible a homely face. She looked up warily at Dr McBride, as if she was afraid of being caught doing something wrong. Lily guessed the woman to be a few years older than herself, possibly as much as thirty.

‘Ah, Nurse Brown – I’ve brought Miss Waters to meet Muriel. Miss Waters is our new housekeeper – she’s come to help keep us all in order.’

‘How d’you do?’ she said to Lily, while busily continuing what she had been doing.

‘How d’you do?’ Lily replied politely. At this, a fleeting smile appeared on Miss Brown’s face, and Lily felt a little more hopeful. She wondered whether to thank her for the flowers, but Miss Brown was looking away as if not welcoming more conversation.

‘Muriel . . .’ The doctor went gently to his wife’s bedside, indicating to Lily that she should follow. ‘How are you today, dear?’

Lily was horrified by the sight of Mrs McBride. She saw a tiny woman with faded auburn hair, her body in a state of extreme emaciation which made the blue eyes that looked up in greeting appear enormous in her face. She looked fragile and ill enough to snap if she was moved, but she suddenly gave a very sweet smile.

‘I’m as you see, Ewan, dear. No better, no worse.’

He took her hand and perched beside her on the edge of the bed. ‘Well, I’m glad no worse,’ he told her. Lily watched the tender exchange between this huge, robust man and his sickly bird of a wife, feeling tears rise in her eyes.

‘May I meet Miss Waters?’ Muriel McBride asked faintly.

‘Of course, my dear.’ The doctor got up and made room for Lily to move forwards and take the bird-like hand that was held out to her. As she did so she heard the doctor say quietly to Miss Brown, ‘Has she taken anything today?’ And she replied, ‘A little, Doctor. About like yesterday.’

Lily had never seen anyone quite so thin before. Muriel’s McBride’s forearms were shockingly wasted and her cheeks was sunken. Yet the eyes contained a life which seemed to beam up at Lily from this pinched-looking face.

‘What a pretty girl you are,’ Muriel McBride said. Like her husband, she spoke with a Scottish accent: her voice was high and thin but her tone was welcoming. She gazed at Lily for a moment, asked her name again, then said, ‘And where have you come from, dear?’

‘From Ambala,’ Lily found herself smiling back. ‘I was with an army family, but now their son has been sent home to school.’

‘Ah yes, of course. And how long have you been in India, dear?’

‘Four years, ma’am.’

‘And you like it?’

‘I do, very much.’

‘Yes, I can see you do. I’ve liked it too. People find that hard to believe. They think it has finished me off. But I love it. This is a wonderful town . . . The mountains here . . . Most beautiful . . .’ She trailed off, and Lily could see the nurse hovering as if waiting to end the conversation. She seemed very protective of her patient. Lily stepped back and Mrs McBride added, ‘You are most welcome to our home, dear. I hope you will help look after Ewan, as I am unable to.’ Then she gave a strange little smile and much more quietly, whispered, ‘You’ll be strong, dear, won’t you?’