‘That’s not the point. If we did that, it would completely upset the local economy.’
‘Oh, right. I . It’s like the beggars all over again. There I was, thinking you were being tight-fisted, and it turns out you’re selflessly doing battle for the good of the local economy.’
‘I’m getting very bored of this pseudo-worldly sarcasm crap, Dave. It’s got nothing to do with being tight-fisted. I’m just not going to let those people make me look like an idiot.’
‘And you looked really sensible giving yourself a haemorrhage over twenty pence.’
‘Oh, sod off.’
We were stopped at a junction by a traffic policeman, and a pair of child beggars tapped on the side of the rickshaw, then stuck their heads pleadingly inside. Liz fished around in her money belt for coins, presumably to demonstrate that she wasn’t stingy. Both myself and the beggar watched her fiddle with the money belt, which now contained a wad of notes almost half an inch thick. I saw the child’s eyes widen with awe.
‘I haven’t got any coins,’ said Liz.
The rickshaw driver revved his engine. Liz flicked through her banknotes, frantically searching for a low denomination.
‘Can you give him something?’
‘I thought…’
‘DON’T START,’ she snapped, with impressive venom. Her fuse had obviously been considerably shortened by her arguments with the rickshaw men. And by her lack of a hat.
Just then, the driver turned and swore at the beggar in Hindi. The beggar ignored him, sensing that he was close to getting some money.
The driver carried on shouting at the child while I fished in my pocket for a coin. Just as the traffic began to move, I found one and put it in the child’s hand as we pulled away. His wrist was knocked by the rickshaw, and I saw the coin fly out.
Spinning round to look out of the back, I saw the child on his knees in the middle of the road, oblivious to the traffic which was hooting and swerving, inches away from smashing into him. As he receded into the distance, I saw the other beggar join the search of the Tarmac, and the beginnings of a scuffle when one of them picked up the coin.
Back at the hotel, Jeremy was sitting on the veranda, reading.
‘You made it?’ he said.
‘Just about,’ I answered.
‘How much did you pay for the rickshaw?’ he said.
Liz jumped in before I could answer. ‘Fifteen.’
‘And twenty on the way back,’ I said.
‘Not bad,’ said Jeremy. ‘Bit more practice and you’ll be there.’
‘What are you reading?’ said Liz.
‘The he said, holding up a copy of the .
‘Oh, wow,’ said Liz.
‘Is it any good?’ I said.
He gave me a patronizing look. ‘Good? This is the we’re talking about, here. I mean, is the bible any “good”?’ He made the inverted commas with his fingers.
‘Dunno. I’ve never read it. I expect it’s got a few good bits.’
He turned to Liz, ostentatiously addressing his comments away from me.
‘It is book. It explains everything you need to know about India. You can’t come here and not read it.’
‘I thought the Lonely Planet was book. Is the better than the Lonely Planet, then? Are the prices more up-to-date?’
They both ignored me.
‘Can I borrow it after you’ve finished?’ said Liz.
He chuckled.
‘You never finish the . I’ve been through it more times than I can remember. Here.’ He closed the book, and threw it to her. It wasn’t a very good throw, but she managed to catch it, and looked at him, slightly bewildered. He smiled back. ‘From me,’ he said. ‘Call it an introductory gift. To India.’ He put his arms behind his head, leaned back in his chair, and stared at the ceiling. ‘Maybe, if you feel like it, at some point you’ll give me one of your books.’
In return for his sixty-page, dog-eared copy of the , he got a fresh, unread .
‘We’ve decided what to do,’ said Liz.
‘Oh?’ said Jeremy.
‘We’re going to stick to our original plan. It’s just too hot down here, and the monsoon’s on the way, so we’re going to head for the mountains. We reckon Simla’s a good place for a first stop.’
‘Simla?’
‘D’you reckon that sounds like a good idea?’
‘You’ve got to do what feels right for you, Liz. I can’t tell you where to go.’
‘What – is there something wrong with Simla?’
‘Go where the feeling takes you, Liz. That’s what you’re here for. There’s no right or wrong.’
‘I didn’t mean that. I only…’
‘Just go. Chill out.’
‘D’you want to… come with us?’
NO! No – she couldn’t ask that. Not Jeremy. I couldn’t face it.
‘I’d love to,’ he said.
Noooo.
‘But I can’t.’
‘Why not?’ said Liz. ‘I thought you could go where the feeling took you.’
‘Nice one. I just can’t. I’m stuck here, waiting for some money to come through.’
‘Waiting for some money to come through?’ I said.
‘Yeah. I’ve run out.’
‘Where’s it coming from?’ I said.
‘Home.’
‘How come? From who?’
‘Parents.’
I couldn’t stop myself from laughing. That’s the life, I thought. Mummy and daddy cabling you money whenever you ran out.
‘What?’ he said. ‘What’s funny?’
‘Nothing.’
‘What are you laughing at?’
. Am I laughing? Is this a laugh?’
‘You were laughing. I want to know what you were laughing at.’
‘Just… you know.’
‘No, I don’t know.’
‘Just – it’s funny that your parents send you money.’
‘Why?’
‘It just is.’ I smirked. I’d really got under his skin now. ‘I just – you know – took you for someone a bit older, that’s all.’
He stood up, throwing on to the ground.
‘What do you mean by that?’
‘Nothing.’
The atmosphere thickened as we stared at each other, neither of us speaking.
‘I’m sorry,’ I said. ‘I shouldn’t have laughed. I mean – just because I earned the money to come here doesn’t make me any better than you. And it wasn’t really a surprise anyway. I shouldn’t have laughed. It was obvious from when you first opened your mouth that you were a toff. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have laughed.’
He was really pissed off now.
‘I am a toff.’
‘No – sorry. Wrong word.’
‘And I earn the money to come here. My parents just happen to be sending me a top-up.’
‘Right. Exactly. I’m leaping to conclusions.’
‘And I am a toff.’
‘Sorry. Touchy subject.’
He was twitching with rage.
‘People like you… people… it’s your kind of… of… with class that… that really… it’s so juvenile, and so English. You’re just so fucking it makes me sick. You’re narrow-minded, and pathetic – and you don’t know about me. So bugger off.’
‘You’re right. Let’s get to know each other better, shall we? Like – what school did you go to?’
‘I bet you went to private school, too.’