Fields of Gold Page 24

  ‘It gives us beautiful shade, dear. Your father likes to take his afternoon tea beneath it.’

  They poured out of the car, stretching and pulling their clothes straight from where they clung to their bodies in the sticky heat. The talk had moved into the mundane about the house, its servants – all of whom were waiting on the steps to greet Miss Iris. Ned felt he was now imposing.

  ‘Jim, will you need some help with the trunks when they arrive? I thought I might make a move, if not.’

  ‘Don’t rush off,’ Dr Walker said. ‘You’re most welcome …’

  It was tempting but Ned didn’t want to outstay his welcome. ‘No, sir. I’ll get some errands done that I’ve put off for weeks. This is my first free day in an age and it’s been lovely to share it with you, but I think you could all use some family time now.’

  ‘You are family, Ned,’ James said, checking that nothing had been left in the car.

  Ned nodded gratefully. ‘Everyone’s tired. I’ll be back, don’t you worry.’

  ‘All right, Ned. We’ll see you later. Come for supper, if you’d like. Otherwise we’ll see you at the picnic.’

  Ned was already retreating. ‘Please say goodbye to the ladies for me, Harold. I won’t interrupt them.’ Hopefully Iris would be disappointed by his departure.

  Walker gave him a mock salute and disappeared into the shadows of what was clearly one of the best bungalows in the district. Ned wondered how Iris would cope with life in this tiny oasis in the wilderness of southern India after her hectic years in London. She would certainly be the belle of the ball for a while and her looks would make her a target for every eligible bachelor – of which there were plenty, most with far more to offer than Ned.

  He would have to make his move swiftly and declare himself to Iris as soon as he found the nerve. Perhaps he would even have to drag Jack’s help into this; no one knew more about winning a woman’s heart than Jack Bryant.

  Iris watched Ned from her window as he retreated down the pathway. He truly was everything she’d imagined he would be. So often she judged people and got them wrong, but Ned had completely lived up to the shy, cautious, intelligent man she’d assumed he was. It was clear he was already very close to her own family, obviously because he had none of his own, although he had written so fondly of his sister.

  What she hadn’t known was what Ned looked like and this was a surprise. She’d pictured him taller, darker for some reason, even though he’d once mentioned his family was fair-haired. In her mind’s eye he wore glasses, and had a studious air. The man who met her earlier today was far more handsome than she’d anticipated. His smile, when it came, was bright and infectious. She loved the timbre in his voice – it had a velvety quality that made listening to him a pleasure.

  Although Ned was careful, when he looked at her he was direct and held her gaze firmly. Even so, his blue eyes held a naïve, almost wistful quality that confirmed her overall impression that Ned was a dreamer.

  She smiled and waved, even though he probably hadn’t seen her. He looked back over his shoulder only briefly, and she liked the excited thrill his glance prompted in her. She turned and stared at his flowers that her mother had arranged to have put in her room already. They were gentle in colour and shape – just like Ned seemed to be. She couldn’t imagine him raising his voice. That was reassuring after witnessing her employers’ marriage behind closed doors and the way the wife often wore long sleeves on a mild day. Iris recalled being woken by soft cries during one night. She’d risen to check the babies in her care were not disturbed by their parents arguing, or their father’s drunken behaviour and the sexual demands he made of his wife.

  No, even on this first meeting Edward Sinclair lived up to her expectations; he was a safe, reliable and gentle person. What’s more, he looked to be a man in love. She hugged herself. In love with her! She had always been used to attention; she was the youngest, the prettiest, the one most likely to go far, or so it had seemed. She’d left India on a wave of confidence but Britain had demoralised her. Over there, she was simply the exotic servant girl with a ‘curious’ accent.

  She’d met so few men that her hopes of falling in love overseas had quickly faded. And then Ned had arrived in her life, his letter landing on the front doormat of the family home. The telltale postage stamps of India combined with the unfamiliar, neat and confident script excited her. And inside she found a charming note, carefully worded but imparting much information – how Ned had come to be linked with her family, the sad details of his own background, and even a suggestion to treat herself to an ice-cream sundae at Fortnum & Mason’s fountain. The latter was a pilgrimage he had always promised himself and never achieved. Since meeting Ned she’d realised just how entranced he was by her, long before they’d even met.

  She smiled coyly to herself. He was definitely husband material, so easy to like … perhaps even easier to love, given her parents already approved so wholeheartedly. It would make them so happy. She had wondered whether coming home, to KGF rather than her familiar family home in Bangalore, would be disappointing … but lovely Ned Sinclair! What a delicious turn of events.

  Iris reminded herself not to appear too eager. She had watched the young socialites from a distance in London playing admirers off against each other and they always ended up getting their way.

  ‘Having a man jealous over another’s interest in you is precisely where you want him,’ one bright young thing had remarked to another in Iris’s hearing one evening. ‘It keeps them more eager than you can imagine, more likely to say yes to anything and everything.’ And the women had cackled lightly at the notion.

  The comment had remained with her but Ned seemed solid; a good man with good intentions. She couldn’t wait to get to know him better.

  26

  ‘Are you awake, Master Ned, sir?’ the chokra boy said through the flyscreen door.

  Ned had been asleep after finishing the night shift. He knew the electrical manager found the long evening stretches hardest. Ned had offered to take over the night shift as often as he could, and he didn’t mind. It would mean more time to spend with Iris, for as trusting as the Walkers were, they were not going to let him take their precious favourite out at night alone very often.

  Ned loved his work. Supplying the mines with their power was an important job and a huge task. He would never have been given such a senior opportunity back home and now there was a very good chance he would be offered the most responsible position in the whole department. There were moments when he needed to pinch himself, and Jack was right – they had to let go of the past because the future was looking so bright for them both.

  ‘Oh, hello, Joseph. Is there a problem at the Walkers?’

  ‘No, Master Ned. Madam thought you might like to help with the kul-kuls for the dance on Tuesday.’

  Ned laughed, standing at the door in his pyjamas, and scratched himself. He wouldn’t miss an opportunity to spend time with Iris. And being formally asked to join the kuk-kul production party was an honour, usually reserved for close family members. ‘Tell Madam I’ll be along shortly. And, Joseph, please thank her.’

  The boy scampered off. Ned wasted no time getting ready. Already well accustomed to the famous ‘Ganges’ shower achieved with bucket and mug, he clambered into a fresh shirt within minutes and left the small rooms he lived in. He didn’t think the Italians would mind if he borrowed one of their bicycles. After all, they’d borrowed his not so long ago and returned it with a bent front wheel and now it was at the repair shop at Nundydroog. Living so close had its advantages and disadvantages. Technically, he shouldn’t even have this accommodation, which was essentially for officers and covenanted men, but somewhere along the line – probably Jack had wangled it – he’d been offered three small rooms in the row of tiny cottages and he had happily lived in them ever since. Jack had recently moved out into his bungalow up on the hill.

  At the Walker household, production was already underway. Ned smelled fresh
coffee and could hear laughter as he approached. As usual Sabu said nothing but his manner was always respectful, dignified.

  ‘Morning, Sabu.’

  Sabu nodded but made it appear as a courteous bow.

  ‘Kitchen?’

  ‘Dining room, sir. Making quite a mess.’

  ‘Good morning, all,’ Ned said, ducking through a curtain tied back at the doorway. He scanned for Iris but couldn’t see her. Disappointment knifed through him. Seated were Flora Walker and two of her daughters. He felt suddenly ridiculous. ‘Please don’t tell me I’m the only male here.’

  They all giggled. ‘You are, my boy,’ Flora admitted, ‘but I was sorry you didn’t join us for supper the other night.’

  ‘It was a family time.’

  Flora held up a finger. ‘You are family, Ned. You must never think otherwise. Iris is sleeping in, lazy scamp, but she won’t be long.’

  Ned’s spirits lifted instantly.

  ‘Sit here,’ Christine offered, shifting along a seat.

  ‘Now, do you remember how to do this?’ Flora inquired.

  ‘Well, he did enough a couple of Christmases ago with us, Mum,’ Geraldine replied. ‘Coffee, Ned?’

  He nodded, grinning at her.

  ‘Have you eaten?’ Flora asked.

  ‘I’m not hungry, thank you.’

  Flora made a shooshing sound. ‘Ask Sabu to organise some of the curry puffs with the coffee, dear.’

  His belly grumbled at the mere mention of Flora’s renowned little savoury pastries.

  ‘You said they were for the dance,’ Christine complained but without any heat. They were all fond of Ned and begrudged him nothing.

  ‘Yes, but a man needs a full stomach. Ah, here’s sleepy-head. Morning, darling,’ Flora said, rising to peck her youngest daughter on the forehead. ‘Go sit next to Ned.’

  He blushed. ‘How are you feeling, Iris?’ he asked after everyone’s mumbles had died down.

  ‘Strange … it feels very strange to be here but wonderful too.’

  ‘Oh, good,’ he said, standing to make way for her. He felt a thrill of excitement as she brushed past him and he quickly sat down.

  ‘The dance will do it, my girl,’ Flora assured. ‘You’ll see a few familiar faces, I suspect, from Bangalore, and it will feel as though you never left India.’

  Iris smiled. ‘I suppose so. Now, what are we doing here. Oh, I want a fork.’

  ‘I thought you should roll, dear, as you haven’t formed them in so many years.’

  Iris mock-glared at her mother as she took in Ned’s hand, poised with fork at the ready. ‘And you honestly believe Ned Sinclair can form a better kul-kul than I can? He’s not even Anglo-Indian!’

  The coffee arrived on a tray with the delicious aroma of freshly baked curry puffs lending a festive air.

  Opposite Ned, the women continued rolling small balls of dough to about the size of the king marbles that Ned remembered playing with as a child. They worked evenly, the conversation meandering quietly from Elsa Drummond’s bridal gown to whether Mrs Irvine’s russam pepperwater was as good as their mother’s, which Flora firmly denied.

  Meanwhile Ned and Iris’s job was to flatten the perfect little spheres over the backs of the tines of a fork. The dough was then rolled up again, curling in on itself with a ridged outside.

  Flora stood after a while. ‘Ned, the curry puffs are cool enough to eat now, but your coffee’s getting cold. Let me take that load for deep frying – you can have a break.’

  The daughters continued rolling and Iris began a new tray alone as Ned sat back to do as Flora had bid.

  ‘What about you?’ he said, gesturing towards the puffs.

  ‘Oh, I couldn’t. I’m still full from last night’s feast. Mum’s making a banquet each night and we’ve had so many visitors that it’s endless fruitcake or vadais!’

  He laughed. ‘You couldn’t have had a vadai in years!’ he said, thinking of the scrumptious deep-fried lentil snack, flavoured with onions and coriander, unique to south India.

  ‘Oh, I’m not complaining, but in London everyone’s so conscious about their figures.’

  Ned glanced at her tiny waist. ‘I really don’t think you have anything to worry about.’

  ‘Well, in England they warn that every girl should look to her mother, and ours is hardly svelte.’ At the gasp from around the table, she didn’t back down. ‘Am I lying? It’s all right for all of you, you’ve left home, but Mum’s got me in her sights and in her house. I’ll be fed until I burst as she laments all her brood fleeing the nest.’

  Her sisters laughed as one.

  ‘How can you not miss her delicious home cooking?’ Ned asked. He loved the savoury food of south India but had realised long ago that the British had adapted many of the recipes to suit their own palate. It was how Anglo-Indian food had come into its own.

  ‘Well, you’re right. I’d take Mum’s dhal over a lump of roast beef any day, but these loose lines have their days numbered,’ Iris said, pulling at her drop-waisted soft pink dress. She wagged a finger. ‘And mark my words, you’ll be thanking me for the warning when the new cinched waist and very curvy lines take off.’

  The girls chortled in gentle scorn.

  ‘No more flat busts!’ Iris continued. They laughed louder. ‘Every curve of your —’

  ‘Iris!’ Flora entered the room to find Iris cupping her breasts.

  Iris gave a soft squeal. ‘Have I embarrassed you, Ned?’

  ‘Don’t mind me,’ he said, trying not to blush.

  The girls exploded with amusement and Ned felt that was his cue to excuse himself. ‘Really, ladies, it’s been a lot of fun, but I think I’ll go find Jack and chop down a tree or something.’

  ‘How is the handsome Mr Bryant?’ Geraldine asked. ‘I hear he broke Daphne’s heart.’

  ‘One in a long line of broken hearts,’ Christine chirped.

  Ned could see Iris paying close attention to this conversation.

  ‘Oh, hush, Geraldine,’ her elder sister continued. ‘I don’t think you’ve ever got over Jack Bryant not falling for your flirtations.’

  ‘Rubbish!’ Geraldine said, her swarthy skin still managing to show a hot flush. ‘And don’t you dare say that in front of Ken.’

  ‘Don’t worry. Ken would still marry you. But it’s not Ned’s fault Jack won’t be pinned down. Anyone who dates Jack Bryant needs to keep their eyes wide open.’

  ‘And their legs firmly closed, obviously,’ Iris finished, and then slapped her hand to her mouth at her mother’s horrified gasp.

  ‘When did you get so bold, my girl?’ Flora wagged her hand. ‘Don’t leave on my wicked daughter’s account, Ned.’

  ‘No. I must, though. But I’ll want a share of those kul-kuls once they’re fried and coated in sugar.’

  ‘You’ll get plenty at the dance, son, don’t you worry,’ Flora said, touching his cheek. ‘I’ll see you out.’

  ‘Bye, Ned!’ It was a chorus of farewells from the sisters but his gaze lingered on Iris.

  She gave him a flirty smile.

  He took his chance. ‘Er, Iris, do you want to go to the … the club tonight or something?’ As the room fell silent he felt a need to fill the void. ‘We have so much to catch up on.’

  Iris looked unfazed. She stared back at him, her dark eyes glittering. Then she shifted herself and shook her head slightly, reaching for another ball of dough. ‘I’m not allowed into the club, Ned, or had you forgotten?’ she said, airily.

  He wanted the ground to open and swallow him. He had forgotten it. It was something that hadn’t been an issue until now because his friends were mainly British, and the Walkers – including their father – seemed happy enough in their own facilities. He did meet Dr Walker from time to time at the KGF club, but the doctor was one of those people who could seamlessly encompass both sides of the community with ease.

  Ned stammered an apology. ‘I think it’s all right actually for a member to take you along as a g
uest,’ he added, trying to make amends.

  ‘Thank you but I’ll have to pass. I’ve agreed to meet Ivan Chalmers this evening.’

  ‘Chalmers? From the Miners Hospital?’

  ‘That’s him. We went to school together in Bangalore. I think we’re going to bingo. I plan to win the Jaldi Five.’

  Ned stared at her as though trying to fix her features into his mind. In truth he couldn’t believe what he was hearing. Bloody Ivan Chalmers getting in first! He composed himself quickly, realising that everyone was staring at him. ‘Well, have a good time tonight – make sure you win,’ he said, overly brightly. ‘I’ll see you at the dance.’

  She smiled and it hurt his heart. He followed Flora out to the front door feeling a mixture of anger and self-pity. He’d obviously misread the signs.

  ‘Thanks for coming today, Ned,’ Flora said.

  ‘I don’t really know what good I was,’ he said, forcing himself to sound cheery and self-effacing, ‘but it was fun,’ he lied. ‘I can’t imagine how well my particular kul-kuls will turn out, but —’

  ‘Ned, dear,’ she said, stopping him mid-sentence. ‘My invitation to you was nothing about making kul-kuls. I asked you over to ensure my daughter doesn’t miss the best catch in KGF.’

  It took Ned a moment to digest what Flora had just said.

  ‘You know?’

  ‘It’s obvious.’

  ‘You approve?’

  ‘Wholeheartedly.’

  He wrapped his arms around her and kissed her loudly. ‘Really? And Harold?’

  ‘Couldn’t think of a son-in-law he would like more.’

  Ned was speechless. ‘Does Iris know?’

  ‘Oh, I suspect she does, but you haven’t known her long enough. From when she was a little girl Iris has needed to be the centre of attention. She likes to entertain, be indulged, be enjoyed. I imagine she knows she’s got you eating out of her hands.’ She tapped her nose. ‘But I also know that Edward Sinclair was all she was talking about on the journey south from Bombay and again last night … certainly not Ivan Chalmers.’ Amusement sparkled in her dark eyes.