Basil Cox did not ask him for his advice. He looked at a point beyond Arun’s right shoulder for a disconcertingly long time, then said:
‘I don’t like it — it smells a bit Marwari to me.’
By his tone he implied that it was a species of sharp practice. Arun was about to speak when he added:
‘No. It’s definitely not for us. And Finance, I know, would not like it at all. Let’s leave it at that. So I’ll see you at two thirty?’
‘Right,’ said Arun.
When he got back to his room, he wondered how he would put things to his visitor, and what reasons he could adduce to defend the decision. But he did not need to. Mr Jhunjhunwala took the decision surprisingly well. When Arun told him that his company couldn’t go ahead with the proposal, Mr Jhunjhunwala did not ask him to explain himself. He merely nodded, then said in Hindi — implying an awful complicity, it seemed to Arun, a complicity of one Indian with another—‘You know, that’s the trouble with Bentsen Pryce: they won’t take something on unless there’s a bit of a smell of the English in it.’
7.22
After Mr Jhunjhunwala had gone, Arun phoned Meenakshi to say that he would be back from work fairly late that evening, but that they should still plan to go for cocktails at the Finlays’ at about seven thirty. He then answered a couple of other letters, and finally settled back to his crossword.
But before he could solve more than two or three more clues, the phone rang. It was James Pettigrew.
‘Well, Arun, how many?’
‘Not many, I’m afraid. I’ve just begun to look at it.’
This was an outright lie. Apart from straining every brain cell he could while sitting on the toilet, Arun had frowned at the crossword over breakfast and even scribbled the letters of possible anagrams underneath the clues while being driven to work. Since his handwriting was illegible, even to himself, this usually didn’t help him much.
‘I won’t ask you if you got “that confounded pane in the neck”.’
‘Thanks,’ said Arun. ‘I’m glad you give me credit for an IQ of at least eighty.’
‘And “Johnson’s rose”?’
‘Yes.’
‘How about “Knife a gentleman buys in Paris”?’
‘No — but since you’re obviously eager to tell me, why don’t you put both of us out of our agony?’
‘Machete.’
‘Machete?’
‘Machete.’
‘I’m afraid I don’t quite see how—’
‘Ah, Arun, you’ll have to learn French some day,’ said James Pettigrew infuriatingly.
‘Well, what didn’t you get?’ asked Arun with ill-masked irritation.
‘Very little, as it happens,’ said the obnoxious James.
‘So you’ve solved it all, have you?’ said Arun.
‘Well, not exactly, not exactly. There are a couple that are still troubling me a little.’
‘Oh, just a couple?’
‘Well, perhaps a couple of couples.’
‘For example?’
‘“Musician who sounds rapacious”, five letters, third letter T, fifth letter R.’
‘Luter,’ said Arun promptly.
‘Aaah, that’s got to be right. But I always thought the right word was lutanist or perhaps lutist.’
‘Does the L give you any help in the other direction?’
‘Er. . let’s see. . yes, it does. That must be “Belfry”. Thank you.’
‘Don’t mention it,’ said Arun. ‘As it happens, I had a linguistic advantage with that one.’
‘How so?’ said James.
‘The word “loot” comes from Hindi.’
‘So it does, so it does,’ said James Pettigrew. ‘Anyway,’ he continued, ‘it seems that I’ve won the Ashes three to two, and you owe me lunch sometime next week.’
He was referring to their weekly crossword stakes that ran from Monday to Friday. Arun grunted his admission of defeat.
While this conversation, devoted largely to the peculiarities of words, and not entirely pleasing to Arun Mehra, was taking place, another telephone conversation, also dealing with the peculiarities of words, was taking place, which, had he been aware of it, would have pleased Arun Mehra even less.
Meenakshi: Hello.
Billy Irani: Hello!
Meenakshi: You sound different. Is there anyone in the office with you?
Billy: No. But I wish you wouldn’t call me at the office.
Meenakshi: It’s so difficult for me to call at other times. But everyone happens to be out this morning. How are you?
Billy: I’m in fine, er, fettle.
Meenakshi: That makes you sound like a sort of stallion.
Billy: Are you sure you’re not thinking of fetlock?
Meenakshi: Silly Billy! Of course not. Fetlock is the hair somewhere. It’s what you catch a horse by, I think. I think it’s the part of the mane at the base of the neck. Hair equals lock.
Billy: Well then, tell me, how can you sprain a fetlock or break one? You keep hearing of a horse having to be shot because it’s broken a fetlock. By the way, are you going to the races tomorrow at Tolly?
Meenakshi: Yes, as it happens. Arun just called me from the office. Basil Cox has invited us. So will I see you there?
Billy: I’m not sure I’m going tomorrow. But we’re all meeting this evening aren’t we, for cocktails at the Finlays’—and then dinner and dancing somewhere?
Meenakshi: But I won’t get a chance to say a word to you — what with Shireen guarding you like an emerald egg, and Arun — and my sister-in-law.
Billy: Your sister-in-law?
Meenakshi: She’s quite nice; she needs to be brought out a bit, though. I thought we’d throw her in with Bish, and see how they get along.
Billy: And did you call me an emerald egg?
Meenakshi: Yes. You are rather like an emerald egg. And that brings me to the point. Arun is going to be out in Puttigurh or somewhere until seven o’clock or so. What are you doing this afternoon? I know it’s Friday, so don’t say you’re working.
Billy: Actually, I have lunch first, then a game of golf.
Meenakshi: What? In this weather? You’ll be swept out to sea. So let’s meet — for tea and so on.
Billy: Well — I’m not sure all this is such a good idea.
Meenakshi: Let’s go to the zoo. It’ll be pouring with rain so we won’t meet the usual good citizen. We’ll meet a horse — or a zebra and we’ll ask him if he’s sprained his hair or his neck. I’m so funny, aren’t I?
Billy: Yes, hilarious. Well, I’ll meet you at four thirty. At the Fairlawn Hotel. For tea.
Meenakshi: For tea and so on.
Billy [rather reluctantly]: And so on. Yes.
Meenakshi: At three o’clock.
Billy: Four o’clock.
Meenakshi: Four o’clock. Four o’clock. Perhaps you were thinking of forelock when you said fetlock.
Billy: Perhaps I was.