These words, and the vehemence with which they were spoken, stung Zachary so deeply that his carefully composed apology wilted on his tongue. He could not think why he had indulged Mrs Burnham’s hopes of a reconciliation: why should he be saddled with the task of making amends for a misunderstanding on her part? He had done more than enough for Paulette in the past and had never had anything but grief for his pains: his chief impulse now was to make Paulette eat her words, even the least of them — and at just that moment a shouted command drew his eyes to Kesri, who was standing at attention, at the far end of the maindeck, with his sword ceremonially upraised.
Suddenly Zachary knew exactly what he had to say.
‘Did you mean it, Miss Lambert,’ he said, ‘when you said that I have nothing of interest to say to you?’
‘Yes I did.’
‘Very well then — I shall undertake to prove you wrong.’
Zachary turned to point to Kesri who was now shouting a command at the squad of sepoys.
‘You see the havildar over there?’ said Zachary. ‘That tall sepoy? Well, I think it will be of great interest to you, Miss Paulette, to know who he is.’
‘Why? Who is he?’
Zachary paused so that his revelation, when it was made, would have the maximum effect: ‘He is the brother of your friend from the Ibis — Ditty.’
Paulette drew back, in shock. ‘I do not believe you, Mr Reid,’ she said, in a wavering voice. ‘You have misled me many times before — why should I repose any trust in what you say?’
‘Because it is true, Miss Lambert. The havildar and I travelled here on the same ship, the Hind. Somehow he found out that I had been on the Ibis. He came to speak to me about his sister and I told him what I knew. He asked me not to tell anyone about it, and I have respected his request, till today. But you at least should know who he is — for perhaps it will help you to remember that it was because of Ditty that you came to my cabin that night, on the Ibis; it was for her sake that you begged me to let her husband escape, along with the other fugitives. I did as you asked, and for that I have had to spend many months in confinement, sleeping on cold stone floors, while you’ — now, as the memories of all his old grievances came flooding back, Zachary’s tone sharpened — ‘while you were lying on a bed of flowers and roses, having been adopted by a rich man.’
Stung into silence, Paulette could think of no retort.
‘Yes, Miss Lambert,’ Zachary continued, ‘the Ibis has left us with many secrets and I have been faithful in keeping them. I may not be as much of a betrayer and liar as you think.’
Listening to him Paulette was suddenly, blindingly aware of the import of his words: she understood that no matter how much she might want to be finished with Zachary, she would never be free of him — the bond of the Ibis was like a living thing, endowed with the power to reach out from the past to override the volition of those who were enmeshed in it. It was as if she were being mocked for harbouring the illusion that she was free to decide her own destiny.
Before she could think of anything more to say Zachary tipped his hat at her and bowed: ‘Good day, Miss Lambert. I do not know if we shall meet again but if we do you may be sure that it will not be by my design.’
*
A burst of applause rang out as the sepoys’ salute drew to a close. When it had faded Mrs Burnham, who had been sitting beside Shireen, on the quarter-deck, rose to her feet: ‘The sepoys have performed so splendidly that I feel I should thank the havildar myself.’
This proposal received an enthusiastic endorsement from her husband: ‘Of course you must, dear,’ he said. ‘And we must make sure that they are served some refreshments.’
Down on the maindeck, by dint of habit, Kesri was tracking the flow of people on the Anahita’s decks as though they were troops on a battlefield. For the most part his attention was centred on Captain Mee and Mrs Burnham: they were like the standard-bearers, providing points of orientation in the midst of the dust and smoke of battle; he kept track of their whereabouts almost without being aware of it. He had noticed that after their initial meeting beside the side-ladder — when his own, speedy intervention had saved the captain from making a fool of himself — the two of them had stayed well away from each other. Now, seeing that Mrs Burnham was coming towards him, Kesri snapped to attention, fixing his eyes on a point in the middle distance. When she said — Salaam Kesri Singh! — he snapped off a salute, without looking directly at her.
Salaam, memsah’b.
You and your men performed very well, Kesri Singh.
Aap ki meherbani hai; you are kind to say so, Cathymemsah’b.
Then passed a moment of silence and when she spoke again it was in a completely different tone, flat and urgent. Kesri Singh, she said, we have very little time and I do not want to waste any of it.
Ji, memsah’b.
I want to ask you something, Kesri Singh. It is about Mee-sahib.
Ji, Cathy memsah’b.
Is he married?
No, Cathy memsah’b, he is not.
Oh.
She paused and her voice felclass="underline" Then maybe he has a … a … kali-bibi, ‘a black wife’?
I cannot say, Cathy memsah’b. He is my kaptán-sah’b. We don’t speak about such things.
Even as he was saying this Kesri guessed she would not be taken in; as a military daughter she was sure to know that such matters were impossible to conceal within a battalion.
Nor was he mistaken; he could tell from her face that she had interpreted his response as a rebuff.
So you don’t want to talk to me, Kesri Singh, is that it?
There is nothing to tell, Cathy memsah’b. Mee-sah’b is not married and there is no woman in his keep.
Has he ever spoken of me?
Not to me, no, memsah’b.
Is that all then? You have nothing else to say to me?
The desperation in her voice stirred Kesri’s pity.
There is one thing I can tell you, Cathymemsah’b, said Kesri.
Yes?
Ek baar, said Kesri, one time, twelve years after that winter in Ranchi, Mee-sah’b was wounded in some fighting. I was beside him and I was the one who removed his koortee. In the pocket, near the breast — Kesri raised a hand to touch his heart — there were some papers.
She gasped: What papers?
I think it was your letter.
My letter?
Yes, Cathy memsah’b. I think it was the letter you gave me, to give to him, all those years ago, in Ranchi.
Kesri knew, because two shimmering dots had appeared at the lower edge of his vision, that her eyes were glistening. And at the same moment he saw that Captain Mee was coming down the companion-ladder, advancing towards them. In an attempt to warn Mrs Burnham, he allowed his eyes to flicker away. Glancing over her shoulder she saw that the captain was heading in their direction; she turned quickly away to busy herself with her reticule.
‘Ah Mrs Burnham,’ said Captain Mee, in a tone of forced banter. ‘I hope my havildar is not giving away all our battalion’s secrets? He seems to have a lot to say to you.’
‘Why Captain Mee,’ said Mrs Burnham, speaking as he had, in a bantering tone. ‘I trust you’re not jealous of your havildar?’
Then suddenly the air seemed to go out of her lungs.
‘Oh please, Neville,’ she said in a soft, shaky voice. ‘How long must we pretend?’
The directness of her tone caught Captain Mee off-guard, wrecking his composure. Like rings on a pond, the pain, yearning and disappointments of the last twenty years seemed to ripple across his face. When next he spoke, his tone was like that which Kesri had heard in his tent, a few days before: the voice of a hurt, bewildered nineteen-year-old.