Fields of Gold Page 17

  ‘Before you go on, Ned, I suspect that you don’t bring glad tidings of that fine young boy. Grenfell said little but I was able to read between the lines and the mere fact that you are here and Robbie is not confirms my grave suspicions.’

  Ned hated himself for feeling a new gust of relief. ‘He died on the ship to India. It was cholera. I’m still at a loss —’

  He didn’t finish what he was saying because Flora arrived and announced supper was on the table. ‘Don’t let it get cold, Harold,’ she warned, wagging a finger at him.

  Walker gave Ned a conspiratorial wink. ‘Come on, old chap. Let’s get you fed and watered.’ He put a friendly arm around Ned. ‘I’m very sorry to hear of Robbie’s death. We hardly knew him, to tell the truth, but what we did know was that he was a sweet child, desperately keen to belong to someone, and it’s true I did say that he could come to Bangalore and stay with us any time. I’m glad he didn’t forget that and I’m grateful to you for wanting to share this difficult news with us in person. It was good of you to come all this way.’

  And so it was done. With Walker’s gentle words closing that chapter of his life, Ned found himself being guided into a sparse but elegantly decorated dining room of lace tablecloths and dark wood where Flora awaited him, her beaming smile echoed by the two female servants ready to wait on them.

  Ned became lost in a pleasant early evening of conversation and simple, delicious fare that masqueraded as local food but in fact tasted more like a slightly peppery chicken stew.

  ‘We weren’t sure how accustomed your tummy was to Indian food,’ Flora explained, ‘so I had the servant make up the chicken we give all our new visitors just out from England. I hope you’re not offended.’

  ‘Mrs Walker, it’s scrumptious. I could eat this all day.’

  ‘Have you started getting your palate more used to the superb Indian fare?’ Walker asked.

  Ned grinned. ‘Yes, I love Indian food. So where is your family from, Mrs Walker?’

  ‘Daddy was English but my mother was a local girl from Bombay. We settled here and of course I met Harold and had a family here. We have six children, all grown up now.’

  ‘Our youngest is Iris. She’s around your age actually and easily the most spoilt of our bunch,’ Harold admitted.

  ‘And your favourite,’ Flora chimed in, as she helped the ayah to rearrange dishes.

  ‘Don’t say that, dear. She’s just the last and my little princess. What can I say? She’s adorable.’

  ‘I hope I’ll meet her,’ Ned replied.

  ‘She’s gone to Ooty, son,’ Flora explained. ‘She’s teaching in an orphanage up there and will probably be gone for the rest of this year.’

  ‘Pity,’ Ned said.

  ‘Oh, I’m sure you’ll meet her some time, although she’s thinking she’d like to travel to England. Harold has a few relatives scattered around but I’m hopeful you’ll meet all in our family.’

  ‘You’re not planning to rush away from Bangalore, are you?’ Walker asked.

  ‘I’m not sure what I’m doing yet.’

  ‘Grenfell said you’re a qualified electrician.’

  ‘I am. I hope I can use my qualifications to find some work in Madras and …’

  ‘Madras? No, I say stay here, son. Bangalore is the place where it’s all happening. This is where they have need of fine young qualified men like you. But listen here, why don’t you consider KGF?’

  Ned frowned. ‘I don’t know of it.’

  ‘Kolar Gold Fields. Booming, my boy, booming! Gold running out of the shafts. That’s my next posting.’

  ‘Really?’

  ‘Yes, in fact I’m supposed to be taking up my position there by end of June. I can ask around, if you’re interested.’

  Ned looked unsure. ‘I have to think about Bella – what’s best for her.’

  ‘Bring her down.’

  Ned’s frown deepened. ‘She’s just so happy in Madras. The three of them make a great family, I’m almost sad to admit.’

  Flora Walker leaned over and touched his cheek in a way only a mother could. Ned felt a twinge of sorrow that his own was lost. ‘Oh, my dear, how sad you are. I understand you’d want to be near your baby sister. Well, whatever you decide, you are both most welcome and we’ll do what we can to help you.’

  Walker was lighting up a pipe and the sweet smell of tobacco began to fill the room. ‘I think you should definitely take a look at KGF before you make any decisions, Ned. Any coffee coming, dear?’

  She gave him one of her affectionate glares. ‘Yes, my love.’

  ‘Are all your children in the goldfields?’

  ‘Near enough,’ Walker said. ‘The boys are involved with the mines in some form or another. ‘Christine is working in the north. She’s a nurse. There’s Iris, of course, and then our middle girl, Florence, is married to an army fellow, so she moves around a lot but we hear he is coming back south around September. Then we have Geraldine, who will probably marry someone locally in time. We’re hoping they’ll be able to settle down in Bangalore.’

  ‘I’m very pleased for you,’ Ned replied, and even he could detect the envy in his voice.

  ‘Ned,’ Flora began, with far too much tenderness. He had to clear his throat and concentrate hard on not letting his emotion get the better of him. ‘We were captivated by Robbie during the short time we knew him. Your news is so sad I can hardly bear to think of that lovely boy. And it’s obvious you became fast friends. There was something special about that child. He seemed to have a sixth sense. No, Harold, it’s not just because he was Anglo-Indian. I really believe he was touched by the heavens. And Robbie chose Ned and his sister Bella to be special in his life.’ Flora regarded Ned seriously now. ‘You are welcome in this house, young man, and in our lives. And until you can start a new one of your own, I suggest you make yourself feel part of this family. I can tell you’re a person of high morals and so, Ned, I like you and I know the rest of the family will too.’

  The lump at the back of Ned’s throat had doubled in size and he cleared his throat again. ‘I’m not sure what to say.’

  Flora banged her small hand lightly on the table. ‘There is nothing more to say. Until you can find yourself somewhere you’d like to live independently or perhaps until we leave, you must stay here with us.’

  ‘I’m really so grateful,’ Ned stammered, overwhelmed by the kindness of these people.

  ‘That’s settled, then,’ Flora said.

  Ned grinned at them both. ‘Thank you. My main plan was to come here and fulfil Robbie’s wish that I meet you. He was so determined.’

  ‘Oh, that poor boy,’ Flora said. ‘I suppose we must be grateful that neither you or your sister were infected by the cholera.’

  ‘Enough gloom,’ Harold said, allowing a stream of smoke to escape the side of his mouth. ‘So, my boy, let’s get you down to the club and initiated into the Bangalore scene.’

  ‘Club?’

  ‘Look lively, lad. No, leave all that. Flora will organise to clear up here. Come on, we’ll make tracks.’

  Ned walked around and kissed Flora. ‘Thank you for everything.’

  ‘Your room will be ready by the time you return,’ she said, hugging him back. ‘Welcome to Bangalore.’

  The rickshaw driver dropped them outside a grand colonial stone, single-storey building surrounded by manicured lawns. Its wide verandah was lit and Ned could see people – men mainly – drinking and talking quietly while Indian men in starched whites and rich red turbans hovered to take care of their every need.

  Harold paid the driver and guided Ned through the gates. ‘This is a favourite of the Anglo-Indian community, which is very large in this city. I should know, I’ve added six of my own to it.’

  ‘Did you meet Mrs Walker here?’

  ‘I did. I came out with the East India Company and she was such a delicious little thing. And so shy. You wouldn’t think that now, would you?’

  Ned shook his head and shared a
smile with the doctor.

  ‘Oh, but she’s a good woman and I love her as much now as I did then. Our children have all enjoyed this club’s facilities. I still prefer the Bangalore United Services Club but it’s a bit stuffy for my lot and children aren’t particularly welcome. With a large brood, it was easier for us to use this place. Besides, The Institute has always been very welcoming to the Anglo-Indian community and Flora feels comfortable here.’

  To Ned it looked like a fairyland. ‘Am I dressed all right?’

  Walker laughed. ‘You look fine, son. You’re well enough dressed for the BUS club!’

  They climbed up the steps onto the cool verandah. Its tranquil atmosphere was stirred only by the ceiling fans and the odd burst of laughter from its guests.

  ‘Here, let’s take a pew. Inside, people can amuse themselves in the billiards room, or there’s a magnificent library and a quiet reading room, but you have to be brought by a member.’ Music struck up distantly. ‘Come the weekend there are balls and dances and lots of gaiety. People your age can have a lot of fun here. Iris hated to miss the opportunity to dress up in her party frocks.’

  ‘And there’ll be none where she’s gone?’

  ‘She’s in the mountains, son. There’s absolutely nothing there. In fact, it’s why she’s gone. Those orphaned children have so little. Iris took up several chests of toys and clothes. I’m glad she felt the calling but then Iris has always been the gifted one. She’s good at everything and seems to be able to achieve whatever she sets her heart on.’

  ‘And your other children?’

  ‘All fine upstanding citizens, I’m proud to say.’ He sighed. ‘Their mother misses them dreadfully. She’d have us all living together in one huge compound if she could.’ He stood and tapped Ned on the shoulder. ‘I’ll sign us in. You order some drinks. Make mine a single shot of Scotch. Tell them the Chivas.’

  ‘I know it well, sir,’ Ned said, reminded suddenly of home.

  Walker disappeared but not before stopping several times to talk to people along the verandah. When the attendant arrived and murmured a soft ‘good evening, sir’ while bobbing his head politely, Ned felt like pinching himself. Suddenly his nationality gave him status and this much older man was bowing to him! Ned remembered his manners, wished the waiter a good evening back and ordered the whisky and a shandy for himself. After the man had soundlessly left, Ned sat back and looked out across the lawns, feeling vaguely happy for the first time in a long time. He promised himself he would write to Bella this evening.

  As he relaxed in the relative quiet of their corner table, he allowed himself to soak up the gentle hum of activity around him. Ahead he watched as a small army of people worked quietly in the distance, setting up for what looked like a party. He recognised the popular song ‘For Me and My Gal’ as it struck up on a gramophone somewhere but it was muted and didn’t disturb anyone. The waiters worked fluidly around the guests, clearing glasses and refreshing drink orders. Next to him two men were laughing quietly. He glanced over. One seemed to be nearing his thirties. The other looked around Ned’s age. Ned caught snippets of their conversation, which moved from talk of a voyage from London to making a new life in India. This was reassuring. Ned was clearly not the only young newcomer to this exotic land. He hoped he would soon make some friends of his own age and feel as relaxed as his neighbour appeared to be, sipping at a beer and laughing with his colleague.

  He stopped eavesdropping and sighed. Somewhere over the course of his journey he’d accepted that he would make a go of this new life in India, so now he had to seriously consider finding work. It was a comfort to know that Dr Walker was investigating positions in the goldfields. If Ned’s father had taught him anything in their brief moments alone, it was that being financially independent was the single most important step a young man could make. Ned had responsibilities now. He had to earn enough to send money to Madras for Bella’s education and he had to be able to pay for his own board and upkeep.

  Walker arrived just as their drinks were being delivered.

  ‘Perfect timing,’ Ned quipped, noticing that the pair next to them chose that moment to push back their chairs.

  ‘Enjoy your evening,’ the younger one said, nodding at Walker and throwing a broad, bright grin Ned’s way.

  ‘Thank you. I plan to savour every last drop of this single malt,’ Walker replied.

  They had both moved on before Ned could respond and he could have kicked himself for not being quicker off the mark. It was a lost opportunity, he decided, as the two men retreated. The friendly one was tall with a confident lope of a walk, his black hair carelessly swiped back from his tanned forehead. He looked like a man at ease with himself and his surrounds even though he was a relative stranger to Bangalore.

  Walker settled into his chair. ‘You’re all signed in, young Sinclair. So here’s to you,’ he said, picking up his tumbler. The light sparkled through the amber liquid. ‘Cheers, old chap.’

  Ned lifted his chilled glass, its contents fizzing deliciously. ‘To you, sir … and thank you again.’

  Walker sighed his pleasure and Ned was determined to next time order a proper beer. Looking over at the empty beer tankards on the neighbouring table, he felt suddenly childish sipping a shandy.

  ‘Did you know those two gentlemen, Dr Walker?’

  ‘The elder of the two struck me as vaguely familiar – I’ve probably seen him here before.’

  ‘I could swear I detected a west-country accent.’

  ‘You probably did. You’re going to meet people from all over Britain out here.’

  The conversation turned to jobs and the potential at Kolar Gold Fields. After a couple of drinks, Walker suggested he give Ned a tour of the Bowring Institute. They ambled down the cool corridors as Walker pointed out the quiet reading rooms through dark arched doorways, continued along smaller pathways until they could hear the sound of men’s laughter.

  ‘And now we’ve reached the billiards room. Care to take a look?’

  ‘Why not?’ Ned said, stepping into a smoky atmosphere of low lighting, a host of bearers standing around the large room setting up fresh trays of balls or serving drinks. A bank of windows lined the back wall, and the other walls were lined with tiered bench seating for an audience. Men in rolled-up shirtsleeves drank, laughed and laid bets on the green baize of the huge tables. Among them he saw the two men he’d noticed earlier. Only the younger one was playing.

  Ned wandered over to watch as the young man took a long look at the seemingly impossible shot he was going to attempt to win a small pile of coins.

  ‘Florins,’ Ned murmured to Walker, who had joined him.

  ‘Well, it’s certainly not Indian currency. A whole pound on one shot. The young man is mad!’

  ‘Or very confident.’

  They watched him line up for his shot and Ned noticed how still the man became, how his smile gave way to a more focused expression. Gently, the man pulled his right arm back, his left not even wobbling, then took a breath and held it. With a fluid movement he struck the white ball and with a hard clack it cannoned into the black, which flew to the far end of the table and careened back, then dropped with a satisfying clunk in the pocket. Men watching erupted into applause and the two opponents shook hands.

  ‘I won’t be betting so freely next time,’ Ned heard him say as he watched the winner pocket his coins.

  The young man grinned fiercely and then took Ned by surprise by shooting him a friendly glance and raising a hand.

  ‘Good to see you again,’ he called over. ‘Fancy a flutter?’

  ‘I don’t know how,’ Ned said.

  ‘Come and have a go, all the same,’ he said, wandering across. ‘Good evening again, sir,’ he said, shaking Walker’s hand. ‘I’m John Bryant. People call me Jack.’

  ‘New off the boat, eh?’

  ‘Is it that easy to tell?’

  ‘You’re not tanned enough. I’m Dr Harold Walker and Edward Sinclair is a guest stayin
g with our family,’ he added, nodding towards Ned.

  ‘Arrived a few weeks ago into Bombay and I’ve been in Bangalore just days,’ Bryant said, offering a hand to Ned. ‘Good to meet you, Sinclair.’

  ‘It seems we’re both new to these parts. I’ve been in Madras for some weeks but only got into Bangalore today. Call me Ned, by the way.’

  Jack introduced his companion. ‘This is Henry Berry.’

  The men shook hands. ‘Pleased to meet you, Dr Walker. Do you work at the Lady Curzon Hospital?’

  As the doctor and Henry fell into conversation, Jack caught Ned’s eye and nodded towards the snooker table. ‘Shall we rack up?’

  ‘So long as you don’t mind me being useless.’

  Ned watched Jack signal to the servant to chalk up some cues. ‘Are you Cornish?’

  ‘And proud of it. I detect a slight accent too.’

  ‘I hope you hear only Scottish,’ Ned said indignantly and just a bit hopefully.

  ‘Is that what it is?’

  ‘Well, if you’d guessed Welsh, I’d have had to hit you with this cue.’

  Jack laughed. ‘I’d like to see you try.’

  Ned grinned. ‘I’m quick,’ he warned.

  ‘Let’s see how you strike first before you shoot your mouth off,’ Jack said, clearly enjoying the banter.

  And so began the first tentative steps of a new friendship. Jack was so easygoing and confident; Ned felt his spirits lifting as Jack guided him not only in the game of snooker but also in the notion that India was the future for both of them.

  Jack winked as he slammed the final black ball home. ‘You’d owe me about twenty pounds by now,’ he said, putting the cue behind his back and stretching his shoulders. ‘I should have insisted.’

  Ned laughed. ‘I’m wise to you, Jack. I think you’re a shark. I suppose you play cards too?’

  ‘All the bad habits. And probably why I find myself here in the colonies,’ he added, sagely, as he returned the cue. ‘We’re finished, thank you,’ he said and withdrew silently.

  ‘Well, thanks for your company. I’ve enjoyed this evening. Listen, are you really thinking about heading to the goldfields?’