Fields of Gold Page 27

  She could still hear the sounds of someone pottering around, but clearly achieving little. He was much closer to their room now, so she hurried out of her chamber, following those sounds to the kitchen.

  ‘Good evening, sir,’ she said, hesitating at the doorway, unsure if she were interrupting his privacy.

  He swung around and she saw a mixture of confusion and perhaps anger on his face. She waited for him to say something but then steeled herself. ‘Can I help?’ While her English was very good, her nervousness made her stammer.

  ‘I’m looking for a glass.’

  She nodded silently, hesitantly pointing to a cupboard behind him, glad that she’d spent the last few hours acquainting herself with the kitchen and setting it up how she wanted it.

  ‘Bring me one, can you? I’m going to hunt down a bottle of Scotch.’

  She remained as still as a statue, eyes downcast as he loomed past her. He looked suddenly huge in the doorway and in that instant she caught the smell of the cream she’d noticed on his dressing bureau. She didn’t mean to inhale the scent but it was irresistible – a manly smell, even though her father scorned such product – and she admonished her indulgence as she hurried to find a short glass. She needed Gangai’s help to find the right glass but he was having a night off with his family. Bryant gave him two nights away from the house each week and in those times she would be responsible for any of the master’s needs. Gangai had assured her she would not be called upon, impressing upon her that Bryant was a very private, quiet person. This was her first night in the house and already Bryant needed to be waited upon at an odd hour. She chose a glass, held it up to check it was clean before she put it on a small tray and rushed out to the front room.

  He was not there when she arrived barefoot and as quietly as she could. She looked around the room carefully, not moving from the doorway. He was definitely nowhere in sight. She heard him clear his throat and realised he was on the verandah. She stole out of the front door, the creak of the wretched flyscreen giving away her arrival before the bells around her ankles heralded it.

  He was seated in a chair, leaning back against the wall of the house, the moon drenching him in a stark, somewhat ghostly spotlight. Kanakammal froze. She could see his half-naked body. He had pulled off his jacket, which was now slung on the wall of the verandah; his braces were loose around his waist and his bow tie was hanging carelessly about his neck. His shirt was unbuttoned to his waist, and his fair skin – made all the more pale in the soft light of the night – was so sensuous, so perfect. She averted her gaze but it was too late by then; she’d absorbed all of the information on his strongly sculpted body that those few shocked moments could afford. She imagined the hard muscles of his belly were earned from his boxing. Gangai had told her that Master Bryant competed in the mines’ boxing competitions and was hoping to capture the trophy this year.

  She instinctively glanced at his knuckles but could see little in this low light, other than the fact that he had huge hands – large enough, she was sure, to encircle her waist …

  ‘Well, bring it here,’ he said. ‘I’m not going to eat you.’

  ‘Sorry, sir.’

  ‘Kan … Kana …’ He gave a sound of exasperation.

  ‘Kanakammal, sir,’ she murmured as she placed the glass down. She darted backwards, instinctively raising the veil, covering her hair, and was tempted to draw it across her face but she resisted. She was sure he could see little in the shadows where she stood.

  ‘I struggle with your name each time. Is there a shorter version?’

  She stared at him, uncertain of what he meant.

  ‘You know, a family pet name or a nickname?’

  ‘I do not understand, sir.’

  His grin was sad and brief as he ran a hand through his hair, so that it now partly flopped forward across an eye. It gave him an even more rakish appearance. ‘That makes both of us. Don’t worry about it. You’ll just have to get used to me mangling your name or perhaps we pick a new one for you.’

  ‘Yes, sir,’ she said, stepping back still further and watching him pour a slug of the Scotch and knock it back without pausing for breath. He made a sound like pain as it went down and then he sighed, proceeded to pour another. ‘Will that be all, Master Bryant, sir?’ She could see what was coming, had witnessed it often enough with the men of the township drowning sorrows or simply just drowning reality.

  ‘No. I want you to talk to me,’ he said, surprising her. ‘Keep me company for a few minutes – at least until I get drunk.’

  She was at a loss for what to say or do. The temptation was to flee but she couldn’t let her parents down on her first night.

  ‘Drunk?’ she repeated, feeling stupid but unsure of herself and the correct procedure.

  ‘I’m going to finish this bottle,’ he said. The small mercy was that it was barely a quarter full anyway. She wondered how long it would take him. Not long, perhaps, at this rate.

  He’d demanded she talk to him, so she made an attempt at conversation. ‘Why is being drunk a good thing?’

  ‘It helps to dull everything.’

  She remained still, eyeing him cautiously as he tipped another shot of the fiery liquid down his throat.

  He turned to her and she could tell the liquor was beginning to work on him; she’d seen that glazed look in men’s eyes before and she didn’t like what often came after it. Too many times she’d slapped away wandering hands of her father’s acquaintances after they’d shared some of the local arrack. But he seemed quite comfortable in his chair, rocking back on two legs and regarding her through a narrowed gaze.

  ‘I’ve decided what to call you,’ he said, smiling at some private amusement.

  He pointed with his glass in his hand. ‘I’m going to call you Elizabeth, after my mother. What do you say to that?’

  She halted the shrug that came as a natural response, instead straightening and taking a short breath. ‘My name is Kanakammal. But you are my employer, so you can call me whatever you want.’

  ‘Well said,’ he slurred. ‘And I choose to call you Elizabeth because I can say it and because it’s a name my father and I love and I haven’t heard it in a long time.’

  He was rambling now. He would be asleep soon.

  She kept up the pretence at conversation. ‘Was the dance lovely, sir?’

  ‘Iris was lovely,’ he answered, leaning back and closing his eyes. ‘Iris was beautiful and fragile.’

  She watched the glass dangling in his hand. It would drop soon. She tiptoed forward so lightly that even the muted jangle of her bells and her bangles didn’t disturb him. She eased the glass from his fingers. ‘Who is Iris, sir?’ she asked softly, more to make a soothing sound than out of any interest.

  ‘Iris is the woman I love.’

  She blinked. Gangai had warned her – with pursed lips and a knowing look – that the master had many women friends although no one special, but here he was talking about love.

  ‘I am glad for you,’ she murmured, trying not to look at his bare chest.

  ‘Don’t be,’ he said and it came out as a soft, slurred growl. His eyes were closed now. She couldn’t remember their colour.

  ‘Why, sir?’ She carefully lifted the bottle from his lap and set it down soundlessly beside the glass.

  ‘Because …’ she watched his tongue dart out and moisten his dry lips, ‘… she belongs to Ned Sinclair, but she will be mine and it will tear our friendship apart.’

  28

  A week had passed since the dance and Ned still hadn’t seen Jack. He was desperate to ask him what he thought of Iris; she certainly had seemed to approve of him. He’d seen plenty of Iris in that time, though, deliberately making suggestions for entertainment with everything from card nights with the family to a movie night and even a game of bingo at Mysore Hall. She’d had no time to be courted by any other bachelors in KGF. Even now he had persuaded Iris to come on a bicycle ride with him as far as Five Lights; he was hoping she would
agree to a milky coffee at the small café just to give him more time to gear up to his big question.

  They were riding leisurely side by side and it was nearing dusk but still light enough to see well.

  ‘I hear Jack has got himself a promotion,’ Iris remarked.

  ‘Yes, to senior engineer. Brilliant, eh?’

  ‘No wonder he can afford to live in that big old house alone. He must enjoy the peace.’

  Ned smiled. She’d given him the perfect opening. ‘Is it a bit crowded at your house, Iris?’

  She gave him a wry glance and then sighed. ‘It’s so good to be home but I’m not a little girl any more and I feel as though I’m asking permission every time I want to go out. When I suggest going into Bangalore, my mother frowns. I’m twenty-four! I’ve been in London. Bangalore is not a scary place for me.’ He made a soothing sound but she ignored it. ‘And have you seen the stream of visitors that come and go from our house on any given day?’

  He knew all too well the Walkers’ open-door policy but Iris still had much to learn about the KGF community’s way of calling in on people unannounced. ‘They’ve surely always been like that, haven’t they?’

  She groaned. ‘I suppose so, but I didn’t notice it so much when I was younger. But here, I feel housebound and there’s no privacy. If I stay in my room, the aunties think I’m rude; if I come downstairs but remain quiet, they think there’s something wrong with me. If I go out, they think I’m being too “fast”. If I don’t go out, they worry that I’m becoming withdrawn.’ She tossed her hair with exasperation and it made Ned’s heart flutter in his chest. He wanted to run his fingers through it. He so wanted to kiss her tonight, but she seemed distracted and irritated.

  ‘What do you want, Iris? What would make you feel content?’

  She shook her head as she stood up slightly on the pedals to see ahead. ‘Oh, I don’t know, Ned. I’d just like some time to myself.’

  ‘Just to yourself?’

  ‘Oh, you know what I mean.’

  He did. He could solve her dilemma with just a few words if he were game enough to utter them. But they stuck in his throat, the fear of rejection too great.

  ‘Jack’s not the only one with a promotion,’ he said, instead.

  ‘Oh, Ned. Let’s ask Jack and go to Bangalore for a day.’

  He blinked, uncertain whether she’d heard him. She continued, without pausing for his reply. ‘We could go and have a great day in the city. It’s so much cooler there and there’s plenty to do. We could go to Ulsore Lake and have a picnic and an ice-cream. Oh, come on. Say yes. My parents won’t object to me going with you. And it would be good to see Jack again.’ She looked away, suddenly embarrassed. ‘I hardly spoke to him that night at the dance.’

  Ned had a different recollection of the night, but he didn’t want to appear churlish.

  ‘Have you seen him?’ she pressed.

  Ned cleared his throat, intensely irritated that Jack was dominating the conversation he had hoped would be about himself and Iris. He stopped riding.

  ‘Ned? What’s wrong?’

  ‘Iris, you haven’t listened to a thing I’ve been saying.’

  ‘Don’t be ridiculous. Of course I have.’

  ‘Then why are you asking questions I’ve already answered?’ He deliberately didn’t mention his friend’s name, as if its sound alone might prompt him to feel anxious about Iris and her feelings.

  She softened her expression and walked the bike back to where he stood. She linked an arm through his. ‘I’m sorry, Ned. That was rude of me. I am listening but I think my mind is just a bit scatty at the moment. Have you got some good news to share?’

  He grinned, relief exploding like lightning through him. She was instantly forgiven. ‘I’m being groomed for the electrical manager’s position.’

  She looked awestruck and it thrilled him. ‘But that’s impossible,’ she said, slapping his arm in mock disbelief. ‘You’re so young.’

  ‘Yes, but I’m now officially training for it. In less than two months, if I pass all the right stages to full competency, I’ll be the mines’ electrical manager. The boss is retiring. What’s more, I’ll be given the bungalow next to the department.’

  She squealed and hugged him. It was so spontaneous and unexpected that he nearly toppled backwards. He laughed, loving her exuberance and the feel of her against him. In that brief embrace he felt her breasts press against his chest and it made his head spin with possibility.

  ‘Thanks, Iris. I thought you’d be pleased.’

  ‘Pleased? I’m as proud as punch for you. Manager at twenty-four! Well, aren’t you two going to be the toast of KGF?’

  Ned’s expression clouded. ‘Oh, you mean Jack and myself.’

  ‘Of course I do. Handsome, dashing Jack Bryant and quiet, enigmatic Edward Sinclair – what a duo you make.’

  Something rankled inside Ned and his brain wasn’t fast enough to prevent the words slipping out. ‘So I’m not handsome?’

  Her smile faltered. ‘I didn’t mean it like that.’

  He looked down and then back up at her, his face sombre. ‘It’s how it sounded – and certainly how it looked last week.’ There, it was out! He hadn’t even realised he’d formulated such a thought.

  Iris stared at him, her expression hard to read. Tension stretched like a taut rubberband between them. ‘What do you mean?’

  Ned scratched the back of his head, instantly embarrassed. But he was on this path now, even though it was all his own fault; he had forced Jack to come to the dance and he had all but thrown them together. Somewhere deep down he’d known it was unwise and yet he had so wanted his two favourite people to be friends. She was waiting, looking offended. ‘Oh, I don’t know. A few of the men were having a joke at my expense about you and Jack leaving the hall.’

  Now she openly glared. A hand moved to her hip and her manner was instantly closed, defensive.

  ‘Iris, whatever it looked like, I —’

  ‘What did it look like?’ she snapped.

  He wished they could go back five minutes in time. Ned took a breath but her hard expression was not softening. Truth was best. ‘You know Jack has a reputation.’

  ‘Oh, I see. And you think I’m an easy catch, do you? That Jack Bryant can twirl me around the dance floor for a single tune and suddenly I’m swooning in his arms and wandering outside with him so he can do whatever he wants with me? Is that what you really think of me, Ned?’

  ‘No, Iris. No.’

  ‘Oh, this makes me mad! Typical small-town gossip. This is why Bangalore is better for me, Ned.’

  Ned was in despair. The evening was ruined and there was nothing he could do or say to make it all right again.

  ‘Iris, I’m sorry. Truly I am. You owe me nothing. I just wanted to tell you that —’

  Suddenly the ground shook beneath them as the sound of an explosion rent the calm of the evening. It felt like an earthquake and as the bikes toppled, he and Iris instinctively reached for each other and clung together. It felt like an eternity but the shifting of the ground and the trembling of homes lasted only a few seconds and then all was deathly still; there wasn’t even the sound of the evening birdsong.

  That silence was almost instantly punctuated by shrieks and screams from the houses of the Indian mine workers. Women and children flowed from the scores of tiny dwellings that Ned had always thought looked like dolls’ houses, fringing the main town. The voices of the women combined to form an otherworldly shrill keening. It was joined by the even louder braying of a siren.

  ‘What’s happening?’ Iris’s face filled with shock.

  Ned’s mouth was open in disbelief, his heart suddenly hammering. They’d rehearsed for this sort of event over the past six years but he’d never imagined it would happen. He knew this was no drill. They were listening to the sound that everyone in KGF dreaded.

  ‘Ned! What’s going on?’

  The oath he expelled was lost in the noise and the sudden frant
ic activity all around him. ‘It’s an accident, Iris. There’s probably been a rock burst beneath the surface.’

  ‘Rock burst?’ she repeated, her eyes frantically searching his.

  ‘A sudden collapse in one of the mines during excavation,’ he shouted over the screaming of the villagers as they ran up the hillside towards the shaft.

  ‘Which mine?’ she shrieked.

  ‘I think it’s William’s,’ he said.

  Iris stared at him with such dread, her hands flying to cover her mouth, that Ned wasn’t sure what to say next. ‘Don’t be frightened, Iris. I’ll get you straight home.’

  ‘Rupert!’ she cried, her eyes wild with panic. She broke free of Ned and began to run down the road.

  Ned ran after her, confused. ‘Iris, wait!’ He caught up easily enough. ‘What do you mean about Rupert?’

  ‘He’s leading a time study in William’s today. He’s down there, Ned. He’s in the mine!’

  It was a shock, but ever since the death of Brent, Ned had accepted that panic was never an answer to any stressful situation. He was pleased he could take the lead and guide Iris out of the fright that had her frozen to the spot.

  ‘Iris, we must go. They’ll need every able man but I might also be needed at the electric department.’

  ‘You can’t leave me, Ned.’

  ‘I’ll get you to the shaft. I know your family will be waiting there. But I have a responsibility. It’s part of our drill. So come on, take my hand. We need to get moving now.’ He watched her look around. ‘I’ve got your purse. Don’t worry about the bikes. Come on, Iris. We must run.’

  They hit their stride until they found themselves in the midst of the wailing Indian women of the community streaming up the hill, anticipating the worst, begging their god to deliver them from it.

  Jack was on the early morning shift this week and taking full advantage of his time off, learning how to play golf, which he’d decided was the gentleman’s sport of choice. His prowess in snooker and cards was envied by many but it gave him little other status, other than that of a cad. Until now that had never troubled him, but until now he’d never wanted to impress anyone.