The poor bugger’s dead!
And as they walked, they passed two British Other Ranks, by their pale faces obviously new recruits, hands on hips, disparagingly surveying Panikhat.
‘Panikhat?’ they heard one say. ‘Phanikhat… Phanicunt if you ask me!’
‘Could do with a bit of that,’ said the other.
‘Yer, a nice dog an’ duck! S’what we all need!’
Joe’s face remained impassive as they passed by in earshot. He wondered if Kitty had understood this and from the increased rigidity of her spine as she walked, he guessed that she had and liked her the better for it.
On arrival at her spacious bungalow, surrounded by the best gardens Joe had yet seen in Panikhat, a cascade of servants tumbled out of the door to greet them. A maidservant took Kitty’s hat and veil, her bearer handed over her church-going gear to another servant, a third set drinks out on the verandah and a fourth abjured a punkha-wallah to speed it up.
Kitty led him to a long chair. ‘I know why you’re here, of course,’ she began without preamble. ‘The station is divided, you know. Did you know that? Divided into those who think you’re wasting your time and wish you’d leave sleeping dogs to lie – this faction is headed by Superintendent Bulstrode, but I suppose he would think that. Anything you might turn up reflects unkindly on police procedures – and then there’s the other faction that think there’s been dirty work at the crossroads and this is headed by Nancy, under the benevolent eye of Andrew, of course. His eye is always benevolent where Nancy ’s concerned as I dare say you’ve already found. He lets her do pretty much what she likes. Wouldn’t have done in my day! But there… He was very badly wounded in the war. His game leg is a legacy of the second Battle of the Marne. I respect and admire him and I wouldn’t like anything sad to happen to him. He didn’t have to go off to the war. The Indian Civil Service was a reserved occupation but he’d served for a year or so with the Rajputana Rifles and was on the reserve of officers and they were glad enough to lure him away. With the wartime expansions they needed all the linguists they could recruit so Andrew went off to France and only just made it back again. He always says he owes his life to Nancy ’s nursing.’
After the slightest pause she continued, ‘Now tell me who you’ve met, where you’ve been, what you’ve seen, what you’re thinking. For example – have you met Prentice yet? The Pathans have a name for him. I can’t speak Pushtu so I can’t tell you what it is but – translated it means “never asleep” or something like that. He spent many years on the frontier, you know. Had a second tour with the Gilgit Scouts and only came away because his regiment insisted. Just in time to take them to France. By then he was more Pathan than the Pathan! What he didn’t know about Pukhtunwali…’
‘Pukhtunwali?
‘Yes, the Pathan code of honour. Giles pretty well lived by it. Still does, I’ve no doubt. Ready to avenge an insult to the third and fourth generation if necessary, ready to defend the stranger within his gates to the same degree. It’s logical, it’s consistent and no doubt essential for existence on the north-west frontier but it can be a frightful nuisance in Bengal. And an intelligent Pathan – if that’s not a contradiction in terms – would be the first to admit that it leads to some wild and ludicrous events. Drink up and have another one – must keep up the fluids in this country!’
‘And Dolly Prentice? What about her?’
‘Oh, she was wonderful! She’s been dead twelve years and she was at least twenty years younger than me but I still miss her. She was my friend, she was everybody’s friend. There was a quality about her that all admired. She could light up a room just by walking into it and if she was talking to you, you felt honoured and all the better for her conversation. I know it sounds sentimental and absurd but ask anyone who knew her and they’ll all say the same. Wait a moment.’
Kitty clapped her hands and called for the bearer. She spoke briefly to him and he bowed and left the room to return carrying two dusty and ragged, leather-covered books.
‘The Prentice family albums,’ said Kitty. ‘I don’t know that Giles would approve of my showing you these but I shan’t inform him of my intentions. It comes under the heading of helping the police with their enquiries, wouldn’t you say?’
She waved for the servant to place them on a table between them and began carefully to turn the pages. ‘Now, these escaped the fire. About the only things that did. They were kept in a metal trunk in Giles’ office at the end of the bungalow with the family papers. When they were salvaged, of course they were brought to me. Giles and Midge both know I’ve got them in safe keeping but they have never asked to have them back and, somehow, it never seemed the right moment to return them. Midge comes over to look through them and hear me tell stories of her mother but Giles has never shown any desire to have them returned. Too painful.’
She found the photograph she was looking for and pushed it towards him. ‘There, you can see something of her style. She was beautiful. There was an elfin quality about her that appealed to everybody.’
Joe looked with admiration and sadness at the bright, mischievous face raised to the camera. Yes, Dolly would have enslaved him too, he thought.
‘And her reputation remained intact?’ he asked delicately.
‘Well, she could have said, with Queen Elizabeth:
‘ “Much suspected of me,
Nothing proved can be.”
‘And so it was. I would suspect there was a string of affairs or at least flirtations and if I was minded to do so I could name names.’
‘And Prentice? Was he aware of all this? Did he mind? Was he very devoted?’
‘What can I say? He had a reputation for devotion and it’s true that when he had to leave the station he took her with him whenever he could. And that’s unusual. Most of the officers are only too glad to leave domestic bliss behind for a few days, I’d say. But devoted? Truly I’d say he wasn’t. I’d almost be prepared to say he was indifferent to her, though you wouldn’t find many to agree with me. Fond of her perhaps and he never mistreated or neglected her certainly but, compared to all the other men on the station, indifferent.’
‘How did he come to marry Dolly? On the surface they don’t seem to have a great deal in common.’
‘Dolly had an Indian background. Rather like Nancy – and dozens of other girls – if you want to have a place in India there’s only one way to achieve it – you have to marry a man who is making his career here. After school, Dolly came out on the fishing fleet and never was likely to be a “returned empty” as we rudely used to call the poor plain girls who went back home without a husband. She had her pick of the eligible men that year – 1902, was it? Of course, by far the best catch is a three hundred pounds a year dead or alive man…’
‘Dead or alive?’ asked Joe puzzled.
‘A civil servant, like the one Nancy’s got for herself, the best paid and having the advantage that if he dies, you go on drawing your husband’s salary in full for as long as you live. Not a bad bargain, I think you’d agree?’
‘It beats police arrangements, certainly,’ said Joe.
‘And Dolly had her offers from that quarter but – and to many people’s surprise – she chose Prentice. And here they are on their wedding day.’
‘He was a handsome man,’ Joe commented.
‘Oh, yes. Physically an outstanding man. And he still is. Fiendishly handsome, don’t you think? But there was something about him which did not appeal to most girls. He didn’t flirt. All those years in the hills were no preparation for the trivialities of polite society. He had no idea, I think, of making himself attractive to women. It’s my opinion that he had been sent back to the regiment here in Bengal with advice from his senior officers to make a serious push for promotion and there is a point beyond which it is difficult to proceed if you do not have a wife. There’s a saying in the Indian army: “Subalterns may not marry. Captains may marry. Majors should marry. Colonels must marry.” Prentice was determined to make colonel. He got Dolly in his sights and carried off the prize of the season.’