Authors: Sylvia Atkinson
Whose
treatment
is
she
under?
If
she
likes,
you
can
send
her
up
here
and
I’ll
have
her
treated
in
the
military
hospital.
You
will
need
to
send
warm
bedding
with
her
and
she
must
travel
in
warm
clothes
as
winter
is
setting
in.
I
hope
to
have
news
that
Doctor
Sahib
will
be
home
very
soon.
The letter elicited no reply. Margaret arranged with the school for Pavia and Saurabh to become temporary boarders as soon as her posting was confirmed. Their howls of protest could be heard throughout Nainital.
* * * * *
Weeks passed with nothing sorted for Rajeev. Margaret was contemplating keeping the bungalow, hiring an English tutor and leaving her son there with his ayah. It wasn’t ideal but it was preferable to sending him to Aakesh to stay with his ailing dadi.
* * * * *
Snowflakes fell like shining stars onto the shaggy pines
and leafless silver oaks. Christmas came and went. Huge log fires burned day and night turning the bungalow into a haven of cuddles, hot drinks, thawing fingers and toes from building snowmen, sledging and sliding. Margaret
continued riding into the white wilderness with Pavia and
Saurabh but the worsening weather often prevented it.
The New Year brought more snow. She put off making a decision about Rajeev. She had written to Hiten to tell him of the Commissioner’s decision to quash the fine. The reply was from Ben saying in future all bills would be paid direct. Her husband asked why she needed more money from the account. Was it to finance more amusement in his absence? Even Hiten couldn’t have got this news to him so quickly. She read on. He’d been to the Punjab, Lucknow and Aakesh! He must have been in India at least a month!
Was she some kind of toy to be picked up on a whim, always answerable to someone? If this was love it was the wrong kind. Tommy too could have easily taken advantage of her. She wouldn’t have resisted and where would that have left her?
Rajeev sheltered in the porch, waiting for a cuddle before his mother left for the hospital. The little man didn’t like her returning to work in the afternoon. Margaret ruffled his curly hair. “Be back to tuck you up” she said, stepping out into a gale-force wind.
A car slithered up the tree-lined drive, ran off the road and became wedged in a bank of snow. The driver got out and walked round the vehicle throwing his hands in the air. The passenger harangued him through the window. A man got out. The deep snow rooted Margaret’s boots in the ground. Her heart stopped. Ben! Flecks of sparkling snow landed on his army greatcoat. Grey hairs streaked his black hair, a dark sculpture in this fairy tale landscape.
He immediately took control, “I have arranged with the hospital for you to have a short leave. Shall we go?” He headed towards the bungalow. Rajeev’s screams brought the servants wading through the drifts. Not knowing who he was, a hullabaloo of fists followed. Margaret yelled “It’s, your Sahib, my husband!”
Ben knocked a poor man down and drew back his arm to hit him again. Margaret dragged at his coat sleeve to stop him. “You should be grateful that the servants are so vigilant in their protection.”
“The devil that lets you down will pay for it!” Ben said cuffing the nearest, then, stamping the snow from his boots, he installed himself as master of the house.
The ayah pushed Rajeev forward but the boy wouldn’t pay homage to his father, refusing to touch his feet. Ben asked, “Do you know who I am?”
The sometimes timorous boy shook his head. Ben lifted him up. Rajeev studied the face so close to his. “Papa… ?”
“Yes… Papa… Go play while I speak to your mama.”
“Go play!” Margaret said, her hands on Rajeev’s shoulders, “Is this all you have to say to your son!”
“I have pressing business with you that does not concern the child.” The ayah led Rajeev away.
Margaret marched over to the desk and angrily pulled a sheaf of papers from the drawer. Brandishing them at her husband she shouted, “Is this it! Aakesh… anything and anybody before your wife and children! You want the recent accounts? Here they are! The originals are lodged at the bank. I send Hiten copies.”
She lifted her head defiantly, “I have done all you asked. The children are in school. I have tried to keep in touch with your family but they have stolen our English House so I have no home at Aakesh. What more do you want from me?”
An assertive English woman was not the reception Ben expected. “My Charuni I intend to spend a few days with you and the children before returning to Aakesh and then to the Punjab to rejoin my Unit.”
She asked hesitantly “Did you ever think of me or has time and distance erased me from your heart?” There were to be no answers. Always his way…
“Where is my eldest son?”
“The children are in school!”
“Well take them out of school!”
“But they’ll be back at tea time and the car is stuck.”
“You have horses?”
“Well yes…”
“We’ll ride there.”
They rode morosely to the school. An unspoken truce was established in Reverend mother’s study. The nun discussed Saurabh’s potential. Oxford, Cambridge or Edinburgh was well within his grasp. Pavia’s too if Colonel Atrey chose to take the unusual step of educating his daughter overseas. Ben made polite noises.
A glib tongue held no sway with Reverend Mother but she was not totally immune to persuasion. The children were granted a holiday to celebrate their father’s safe return.
Ben swung Pavia onto the horse with her mother. Saurabh would have none of it. A miniature version of his father, he was the man around here. A block was brought so he could mount unaided. Ben swung up behind him and took the reins with Saurabh holding onto the horse’s mane. He rode far too fast for Margaret to keep up, endangering himself and his son on the slippery road. They were laughing by the fireside when she reached the bungalow.
“Papa, why didn’t you wait for us?” Pavia said.
“Men don’t wait for girls… do they papa?”
“Of course they do,” Margaret said. “Saurabh, you must always wait and look after your sister”. She knew his father wouldn’t wait for anything or anyone.
Why
had he really come to Nainital?
They didn’t talk except to the children. Ben gave them liberty to do as they pleased; flying paper aeroplanes at the ayah and generally causing a nuisance. By bed-time even Rajeev had stopped looking at his mother for approval.
Ben asked Pavia if she liked school. She replied with a torrent of fictitious stories illustrating how much she loathed it.
“How would you like to go back to Aakesh?”
“Really, papa?” she said, her eyes widening.
Saurabh chimed in, “What about me?”
“And you of course, old chap.”
The boy dashed enthusiastically through the bungalow, gathering his favourite things. Margaret was perplexed. According to Reverend mother they were enjoying school. It was unthinkable they should abandon their studies on an impulse. Saurabh would be ruined if his grandmother encouraged his wayward nature. Margaret tried to discuss it but Ben’s mind was made up. They would be tutored at home. He further justified his position by reminding her that she would be in Kohat for most of the year.
That night Margaret spread an embroidered cover on the bed and, using her intimate knowledge of Ben’s body, oiled and massaged him. This cheap tactic wasn’t love making but she had to try to change his mind. Saurabh must go to boarding school.
Ben confessed, “I was not prepared for this. Three years apart is a long time for any marriage. People change. I came to ask you for a separation.”
“I have done nothing to cause you to put me to one side.” She pleaded, “Once more must I lie alone?” He spent the remainder of the night in another bedroom. Margaret had her answer.
The instant Rajeev realised his mother wasn’t going with them to Aakesh he began to cry. Pavia and Saurabh asked their father to let them stay. Boarding school wasn’t so bad and they could be with their mother in the holidays, lots of their English school friends did that. But their intractable father spirited them away before their tears had time to dry.
A shoe lying here: woollen hats and scarves tossed to one side: books, pages open by the side of beds: crumpled cushions where the children sprawled reading gave the illusion they were outside playing. Pavia’s bear missing from the pillow told a different story. Margaret didn’t even have that for consolation.
Ben’s promotion and return from overseas would have made it possible to delay her posting. What was so urgent that it couldn’t wait while they sorted things out between them? In the haste to get away he had left his light travel bag, empty except for a crumpled letter. Margaret read,
My
Dearest,
Atrey,
You
will
now
be
at
home
with
your
wife.
Do
not
forget
me
and
the
nights
we
have
spent
together
under
Egypt’s
stars.
I
had
never
known
what
it
was
to
fall
in
love.
I
thought
it
could
never
happen
to
me.
I
was
too
wrapped
up
in
my
work
to
become
involved
with
such
foolishness
but
these
last
two
years
with
you
have
been
worth
everything.
When
will
you
send
for
me?
Will
I
have
to
wait
for
this
wretched
war
to
end?
Be
kind
to
your
wife
when
you
tell
her.
It was signed Olivia, the address a military hospital in Egypt. Improbably it was from a woman who sounded so like herself. Tearing it to shreds Margaret watched them curl to ash on the fire’s dying embers.
Delhi
February
1943
Margaret was posted to Delhi. Maybe Ben had fixed it so she could visit the children. Road and rail links were good. There was a train to Aakesh and she could take a tonga to the house, a journey under ninety miles instead of the hundreds she would have to travel if she’d been sent to Kohat.
Letters were getting through to her, forwarded from Nainital. In his, Margaret’s father admitted to being lonely since his wife’s death. She sympathised but the ache inside her was made worse by the living. She didn’t ill wish Ben but prayed for some kind of severance from him. Margaret couldn’t expect her father to understand, or Nan and Mary. Her sisters were happily married and praying to be with their husbands who were away at the war, while she was seeking a solution to her own marriage. Ironically, she might see their husbands before they did. Her father had mentioned that they were on their way out East, and had promised to look her up, if they got the chance.
Margaret knew Nan’s husband Davey but Mary had been too young for courtship when Margaret sailed for India. It would be great if they could get together, then she’d get the real low-down on what was happening in Scotland. Writing letters passed the time and she was disappointed if a day passed without receiving one, but today’s was most surprising:
Dear
Nurse
Atrey,