Chapter 9-

Off for the Holidays 

HAVE you put out the wine glasses? Henry asked the head boy Jee, sahib And the chocolates?" Jee, sahib Then bring me another whisky-and soda He sat in front of the sitting-room fire, wearing his grey chalk striped suit and fingering his dark-blue tie with the white and blue stars The tie was rich, heavy and silk lined It bore a 'Sulka' label and it was obviously outrageously expensive Jean Walters had sent him the te from England for Christmas Odd that the should have thought of sending him a present, thought Henry It was three days before Christmas, and Henry was due to leave for Calcutta the next morning for his holidays Ruby Miranda was going to Tinapur. and they were going to have their Christmas dinner together that night, three days in advance Ruby had offered to bring some sperial chicken vindaloo which she was going to cook, and Henry had sent for a bottle of the Highlands Club's best champagne to go with it He had just ordered his set and chota-peg when the head boy came and told him that Jugal Kishore babu was waiting to see him 'He hasn't got the woman with him, this time, has he?' he asked in a tone of irritation.

No, sahib

" Tell him to wait in the verandah,' said Henny, and bring me the chota-peg"

That was one major hurdle he would have to overcome some time soon Henry had still not got hold of anything concrete that he could use as an excuse for dismissing Jugal Kishore. Jugal Kishore had been in the company's service for fifteen years and now held a fairly responsible appointment, that of chief stockman Before you could get rid of someone with so much seniority in the company's service, you had to have something tangible against him. Henry had discovered that many of the labourers in the garden were in the habit of paying him a rupee on every pay-day for his services to the Council of Labour which was supposed to represent their griev ances before the management. That must have brought him every month at least another two hundred rupees above his pay. Of late, he had even begun to dabble in politics and had got many of the coolies to listen to political speeches down in the valley. Perhaps that would provide the handle he was seeking politics.

When Henry came out, he was somewhat startled to see that Jugal Kishore was not wearing his usual grey suit and brown pill- box cap, but a short grey jacket closed at the neck over a knee- length white shirt. In place of trousers, he wore tight, many-folded churidar pyjamas; and instead of the brown pill-box cap, a snow. white khaddar cap.

Jugal Kishore folded his hands and said, 'Good evening, sir.

'Yes?' said Henry, frowning.

'Mr. Winton, this time I have not come to ask you a favour. Jugal Kishore said very coldly. This was the first time any Indian on the garden had addressed him as Mr. Winton. They had always called him Winton sahib.

What do you want?"

You were rude to me the last time I came to your house, Mr. Winton, and you insulted my mere. But that time I had a favour to ask. Now you are being rude to me again merely because I happen to be a subordinate... subordinate and an Indian."

Look. I haven't got the whole evening to stand here."

'No; sahib has got more... er, more important business to attend to. Jugal Kishore said with a knowing smile. But my visit is im- portant too, in its way. I have come to give you good news

'Good news?'

'Yes, I'm leaving my job-resigning.

"You're what?" asked Henry, hardly believing what he had heard.

I told you. Mr. Winton, that I came to give you welcome news. There was no need to be rude."

I won't pretend it isn't. We can't have trouble-mongers here. getting a rake-off from the unfortunate coolies-people who even stoop to lodge false complaints with the police."

We all have our failings, Mr. Winton. Your failing is that you cannot bear Indians: yet you tragedy is that you are doomed to work in this country. You cannot even tolerate the idea of having an Indian mistress... a full-blooded Indian mistress."

Will you leave this house at once!-before I have you thrown out?"

'Mr. Winton, just as you would not go out hunting an elephant without a proper gun, I would never dare to come into an English- man's house to talk to him on equal terms unless I were adequately armed. You have insulted me quite enough; you have humiliated my niece: called her a thief in the hearing of your servants-your low-born menials. It is so easy to be rude to someone who cannot be rude to you, Mr. Winton.""

'Clear out of here, or I will have you thrown out!"

"That is the typical British reaction to any difficult situation. isn't it?-throw out the person who disagrees with you. You live in India, cating the profits of the land, and keep throwing out the Indians themselves. Well, not for long, Mr. Winton; not for long."

Henry clenched his fists and came very close to Jugal Kishore. Get out, you swine! Get out, this minute!" he muttered.

' "Ha-ha!" Jugal Kishore laughed derisively, showing his crooked. paan-stained teeth and squinting his puffy eyes. But he stood his ground. 'Why don't you shout, Winton? Because you don't know exactly what ammunition I have got to fight you with. Because you are secretly afraid. You may be the manager of this garden, Winton, but I can tell you that neither you nor anyone else can throw me out-do you hear that?-no one. If that happens, I can get all the labourers to strike work. Would you care to risk that, Winton? Then you'll know the real power of labour, once and for all. Why don't you hit me. Winton, why? Why?" Because you're not worth it. I know your game. You want to provoke me into hitting you so that you can raise a hue and cry about it. You are too terrified to come out and hit back, and too cowardly; all you Indians. Your Gandhis and everyone. You always want the other man to hit you so that you can whine and show your bruises to the world and go on shouting: Hit me, hit me again! You disgust me?"

Your days are over, Winton; people like yourself and that lecherous dog, Jeffrey Dart-Sir Jeffrey Dart-ha-ha!"

'Don't push me too far; I'll really kill you, you bloody swine!" said Henry, trembling with rage.

I am not Kistulal. Winton: I am not someone you can push in front of an elephant and run away and save your own hide-and then come out and offer to hit an old man like me.'

'Boy!' Henry shouted. 'BOY!"

"If you think there is a single man on Silent Hill, a single Indian. who would lay a hand on me, you are mistaken. They may not all be my followers, but they know what will happen to them if they lay a hand on me. They have to live in this country and take their punishment. They are not going to pack up and run away one day like all you Englishmen" The English will never leave this country.' shouted Henry. never"

Oh yes they will; and it is people like me who will make them. That is why I am resigning, to hasten the process. I am contesting a by-election to the Assembly backed by all the labour unions, supported by the Congress...

God help India if people like you are to be elected to assemblies. You are crooked, without a spark of decency, corrupt, and. and quite unmoral, why, you even offered to get me interested in your niece. With what face can anyone who would stoop as low as you go before the people and....

With the same face as you who go about calling yourself a hunter and a white man."

'I don't want to hear another word from you Henry turned on his heel.

'Yes, run away; run away, that's the best thing you can do." His arrogant, derisive laughter, loud and defiant, followed Henry Win- ton right into his sitting room 'You'll all be running away soon. all you Englishmen velled Jug, 1 Kishore from the verandah. 

Being given to understand

THE New Year came, as in any other year, with the singing of Auld Lang Syne and drinking champagne and kissing all the women within reach. No one could have known that it was a very special new year. A gate was clanging shut; henceforward, they would tend to talk of time as the years before 1939 and the years after 1919.

From a third floor window of the Grand Hotel in Calcutta, the hill-top tea-garden called Silent Hill seemed diminutive and remote, like something viewed through the wrong end of a telescope, its problems insignificant, its Caesar a strutting pygmy. Calcutta was immense, gay, noisy, heady; the races were on, and polo teams had come from Kashmir and Jaipur. Firpo's, the Great Eastern, the Three Hundred, all had their special attractions.

But the gaiety of Calcutta had, for Henry Winton, a dry and brittle quality: the gasety of too much drinking, tou many late nights, too much money spent on parties and theatres and at the races. From the very day of his arrival, Henry had longed to get back to his bungalow at Silent Hill and to Ruby Miranda: and indeed, if it had not been for the fact that she herself had gone to Tinapur for the holidays, he would have cut short his own visit to Calcutta and gone back to Silent Hill. She had been wonderful that night, so sympathetic and so uncurious: so full of understanding, so eager to please, to anticipate his slightest wish, so submissive to his demands. She had come into his bungalow only a few minutes after Jugal Kishore had gone away, and this time she had come through the main door, held open for her by the head boy, howing and smiling. and Henry had come out into the passage to receive her. And this time they had sat in the wide, bay-windowed, high-ceilinged sitting- 100m with the rough, cobble stone fire-place and Henry's hunting trophies hung up on the walls; not in the sneaking, behind-closed- doors seclusion of the gun-room. Henry had offered her a sherry and they had sat down on opposite chairs in front of the log fire. with Herman the retriever lying down on the rug between them exactly as though they were man and wife.

But as soon as Henry had sat down, his thoughts had gone whip ping back to the mood of helpless rage brought on by Jugal Kishore's visit. Jugal Kishore's defiant and rude laughter, his burn- ing, arrogant words crowded Henry's mind, making him feel hot with shame. Was it just a shot in the dark, or did Jugal Kishore really know something about the way Kistulal had died? he won- dered. He must remember to ask Cockburn the next time he met him. Perhaps his man had been talking, or had gone back nosing again and had found the missing cartridge and had passed it on to Jugal Kishore. The thought of that cartridge brought on a crawling sensation of fear at the back of his neck. How much real knowledge did Jugal Kishore possess?

Ruby Miranda must have sensed that he was upset. She sat in the opposite chair, sipping her sherry and smoking, not talking much ur expecting to be talked to, and getting up now and then only to re-fill Henry's glass. After a while, she had gone over to the gramophone and put on some of the records she had brought with her. And after that she had gone on sitting, smoking cigarettes and tapping her toes to the music. demure and chaste, fitting smugly into the picture of fire-side domesticity. She was wearing a new dress of flame-coloured silk, fully draped yet low-cut, not too daring and yet showing off her figure to perfection.

You're looking wonderful this evening, said Henry. Thanks."

Even at the time, Henry remembered thinking that she no longer said 'tanks' instead of 'thanks'. That's quite a dress,' he said in compliment.

I was wondering when you were going to notice. I made it myself, from a Hall and Anderson pattern. Would you like to dance?" she asked. She got up and stood over him, tall and dark and perfumed, holding out her arms. The gramophone was playing a tune called I'm in Heaven.

I am not much of a dancer,' said Henry, putting down his glass.

Don't hold me so far off. That's better I like your tie. New?"

'Yes.' said Henry. 'A Christmas present. It's easy to dance with you."

That's because you're not holding me too far away,' she said matter-of-factly.

She was humming the tune as they danced, and her eyes were half-closed. I'm in heaven,' she was repeating. 'I'm in heaven, dancing cheek to cheek."

After the record finished, she made Henry stand in the middle of the floor, near the open-mouthed-riger rug, and put on another record. They had danced, keeping to a corner of the room, on the polished teakwood floor, for nearly an hour, only pausing to change the records, and in that time she had gently stroked his mood back to something close to what it had been before Jugal Kishore had come that evening. Afterwards, they had had dinner by candlelight, and they had drunk champagne, toasting each other solemnly. She coaxed him to eat, not eating much herself, and he thought her chicken vindaloo delicious, zesty without being hot.

You're a wonderful person, Henry told her very sincerely. That night she had not gone back to her cottage although it was not raining; nor had she slept on the camp-bed brought into the gun-room. She had lain in Henry's bed, pillowing his head against her breast, until he had fallen asleep.

That was how he remembered Ruby Miranda: and that was the woman he now longed with all his being to get back to; the rare mixture of the submissiveness and surrender of oriental woman- hood with the freedom and gaiety of the West, and of course the breath-taking figure and good looks and colouring which had been a gift of both the West and the East. She was not the kind of woman who analysed your shortcomings; Ruby Miranda was content with him the way he was, even prepared to sacrifice the love of her child- hood sweetheart for him.

In Calcutta, he spent a whole morning selecting a present for her, and in the end he chose a pair of sapphire and gold ear-clips from Hamiltons. They were terribly expensive; but he wanted to buy an expensive present for her, and he thought the ear-clips would go specially well with her dark, almost Spanish face. He also bought her two pairs of the most expensive flesh-coloured silk stockings that Hall and Andersons had. After that he bought the furnishings for the spare-room, still with Ruby Miranda in his mind. In the New Market, he hunted round a dozen shops before he got the carpet and curtains that he thought would make the correct setting for her. The carpet was light green and made in Kalimpong: the curtains were made of handloom material, and hand-painted: light green sprigs on an orange background. For the bed itself, he bought a deep, sponge-rubber mattress. And all the time he was on the train going back, he kept building pictures of Ruby Miranda wearing the ear-clips and the stockings, Ruby Miranda lying on the Kalimpong rug and wearing only the ear- clips, Ruby Miranda on the sponge-rubber mattress holding out her arms to him.

'Oh, it's great I mean wonderful! Ruby exclaimed when he led her into the spare-room. She was wearing the same flame- coloured dress she had worn the last time she had come. She also wore her new flesh-coloured stockings which he had had sent to her in the morning. She had never looked more beautiful, he thought, as she turned to face lum. her eyes shining with excite- ment,

So now you will have a special room to yourself, whenever you are here and it rains,' he told her. "What do you think of the cur tains? I had your orange dress in mind when I chose them."

He helped to unhook the dress while she held up her arms and contracted hes body, and she wriggled out of it and put it carefully draped on the back of the bedside chair. She wore no slip or bras- sière. The stockings too were peeled off, raightened, and thrown on the arm of the chair. And finally the brief, lace-edged cotton knickers but before that he had to go and switch off the lights.

Ruby lay back on the sponge-rubber mattress, shining black hair and light-brown limbs, just as he had pictured her in his mind, rounding off the new decorations of the spare-room, lying on the white sheets naked and desirable and desiring, her hands folded behind her head and smiling at him with half-closed eyes in token of her surrender.

Close your eyes,' he said to her, 'and don't open them till I tell you. Then he held out, opened, the small velvet box from Hamil- ton's. In the dim glow of the log fire, the sapphires sparkled like two fire-flies. Now!"

Ruby opened her eyes and blinked and gave a sudden startled cry of pleasure, but she did not say anything. It took Henry some time to realize that she was crying. And he culd not understand what she could be crying about. The next morning, when Henry walked into his office after his daily round of inspection, he thought he had the answer. On his table lay an application from Eddie Trevor. Trevor wanted to be considered for the job of the chief stockman which had just become vacant as the result of Jugal Kishore's resignation.

'Bloody cheek!' Henry exclaimed, with a sudden sharp stab of jealousy. "Bloody cheek!" Henry read:

Being given to understand, that a vacancy for the post of chief stockman...

That was the set formula for an application for a job. The damned nerve" Henry said. as he flung the application to one side.

So Eddie Trevor had decided to follow Ruby Miranda to Silent Hill. He has always been in love with me. he remembered Ruby Miranda's telling him. 'Eddie wants to marry me as soon as he gets a job." And Trevor was expecting him, Henry Winton, to provide the job; so that they could get married!

He could almost picture the spare, athletu figure, gawky and yet full of assurance. the deep-ser, sharp black eyes, the loping easy walk like that of some teline animal, the incredible speed and stamma, the hair-trigger reflexes: the man accustomed to dominat- ing a packed heekey game. And he could see another Eddie, the master of ceremonies at a gala, in the tight-fitting, shoddy coat with the heavily padded shoulders calling out in a singsong voice, 'All the nines, ninety-nine. Kelly's eye, number one" And then, cutting into his thoughts like an ice-pick had come the horrible suspicion; had Ruby Miranda told him to apply for the job?

She had gone to Tapur for the holidays and must have seen a lot of Trevor, Had she told him to send the application? Otherwise it would have been too much of a coincidence. Jugal Kishore had left the job only a day before Henry had left for Calcutta. Trevor could not possibly have known anything about it unless someone had told him.

Who? Ruby Miranda? And did that mean she wanted Trevor to come and live at Silent Hill?

The thought went spiralling round and round in his mind, rouching upon things she had said or done or avoided saying. lighting up odd dark corners. So that was the reasou she had burst into sobs the previous evening.

There was, of course, no question of giving the job to Trevor. The automatic choice for Jugal Kishore's post as chief stockman was his assistant, a man called Patiram. Patiram had been in the company's service for seven or eight years, and was already a per- manent employee. He was a meek, hard-working, retiring sort of man, and it was high time he was promoted; in any event, there was no question of bringing in an outsider over his head. If a new man had to be taken on in the stores department, he would have to he started on daily wages, just like an ordinary, part-time coolie. And then, only if he was found hard-working and honest, pro- moted to the post of an assistant storekeeper, perhaps after a year's service. If Trevor wanted a job in Henry's garden, that was how he would have to make a start as a daily-wage coolie. And somehow, the thought of equating Trevor to a part-time coolie had brought on a cooling sense of satisfaction.

Henry picked up Trevor's application again. There were several testimonials and newspaper clippings attached to it. He did not seem to have matriculated, though. Heary noticed-otherwise the matriculation certificate would almost certainly have been there.

His chief glory, of course, was that he had played centre forward in the provincial hockey team and had gone to Berlin with the Olympic hockey team. The paper clippings had glowing headlines describing his prowess in some crucial match or the other, and some of them had photographs of him.

"The nerve" said Henry aloud, 'daring to send me all this bumphi He was just about to toss the papers into his out tray when something tamuliar in the numerous testimonials caught his eye. He picked up the papers agam and turn d them over carefully. His chilling suspicion was correct. There wis a testimonial which was written on Brindian head office stationery, and it bore the florid signature of Sir Jeffrey Dart. It was extraordinary how magn- animous Sudden could be when caught in the right mood.

Towards five in the evening, his chapiassy came in with a visit- ing card. It seemed Mr. John G. Trevor was waiting to see him. Henry looked at the yellowing card arefully, thinking of the man he had seen in Sudden's house, helping himself to Sudden's cigars. It was clear that the card had been used before, for there were signs of some pencil writing having been rubbed off from one corner. It confirmed that Mr. John G. Trevor was the ex-head watchman of the Pagoda Dale tea estate, and also announced that he now resided in the second lane of the railway colony at Tinapur.

'Ask Trevor to come in,' said Henry.

John G. Trevor came in, holding his thick, quilted sola topee in his hands and making deep hows at each step, small and withered and sound-faced. like a backroom character out of Kipling, but shifty-eyed and ingratiatingly courteous

Henry kept him standing Mr Trevor stood some distance away from his table, blinking his watery eyes and twirling his topee

"Yes?' Henry asked.

I have come in connection with my son's application for the job of chief stox kman, si

'I thought as much.

My son has gone to Bombay, s. for the Aga Khan hockey tournaments, sir, old Mi Trevor said I'm sorry he could not pre- sent the application himself

It's a pity you have taken ill the trouble to come bese Levor said Henry But I'm strnd theses no chance of that job going to an outsider'

'He is not an outsides, I have worked thirty years for the company

As far as I am concerned, he s an outsider your service to the company makes no diference. It would

But, st

. 'Please don't interrupt me It would have made no difference whatsoever even if your son had been able to sex me These setor posts are usually filled by promoting someone already in the service of the company It is a polics matter You should know that

But, sir. I have a letter here from Sn Jeffrey Dart I hope your honour will have the goodness to consider

Let me see said Henry, putting out his hand

John G. Tresor fished a letter out of his porket He handed it to Henry and stood back nervously blinking his eyes and twling his hat.

Sudden had written on the semi official stationery of the head office at Chinnar My dear Winton,

This will introduce John Trevor who used to work under me three years ago. It seems his son has applied for some job in your garden. I know the young man; he's a brilliant sportsman. Please see what you can do for Mr. Trevor.

Henry frowned. 'I wish you hadn't gone to the trouble of going to Chinnar to get this recommendation. I'm sure if Sir Jeffrey had known what job your son was applying for, he would never have agreed to give you a letter of recommendation. For that matter. I cannot imagine how you or your son could have discovered that there was a vacancy here most odd! But I must make it clear that I strongly disapprove of such... er, such backdoor methods. I am sorry."

But begging your pardon, sir. Sir Jeffrey assured me that you would do the needful, sir, after you had read the letter....

I am not prepared to hear anything more about this, Trevor. I shall speak to Sir Jeffrey next time I go to Chinnar. In the mean- time, I should advise your son to seek employment elsewhere. He will not be getting this job. That's all. You have my permission to leave."

It was an odd, typically Indian politeness. Whenever you wanted to signify that an interview was over, all you had to say was that the other man had your permission to leave. It was as easy as that. John G. Trevor stood uncertainly for a moment, and then shuffled wearly out of the 100m, bowing as he went.