Daisy's Long Road Home. Merryn Allingham
resignation had been typically ill natured and she wasn’t expecting a glowing reference.
In the last few minutes, her skin had begun to burn, even as she stood in deep shade. It was time to turn for home and she headed for where she remembered the tonga drivers used to gather. Weaving a complicated path through the jumble of stalls, she edged her way through one narrow space after another, skirting the sweep of craft workers who plied their trade at ground level. Very soon she spied the tall plumes of a horse’s bridle and saw them move with the shake of the animal’s head. She felt pleased with herself that she’d managed to find the place unaided.
The sun was now directly overhead, its rays arrowing through the thick air and hitting the ground with such force that they bounced upwards and slapped her in the face. She felt sandwiched between two opposing armies, both brandishing fire, and it was a relief to climb into the first carriage she came to. She lay back in the shade of the faded cloth canopy and watched its decorative bobbles jump to the rhythm of the wheels, as the tonga swerved out into the traffic and made for Tamarind Drive. She was looking forward to home, to a cold shower and an even colder drink. And then a long rest on the cool counterpane. It was a guilty pleasure, a sheer indulgence, when at this very moment she should by rights be directing the activities of a busy ward.
But when she walked up the veranda steps, her plans received a setback. Mike was sitting at the dining table surrounded by paper, and she felt disconcerted. She had expected him to be at the office. He looked up when she walked in and she thought he seemed irritated. That was probably her imagination, for his face relaxed quickly into a smile and he folded the map he’d been studying and asked her how her first day’s return to Jasirapur had gone.
‘Don’t clear the table for me.’ She gestured to the stack of papers he’d begun to load into his ancient briefcase. ‘I’m ashamed to say the bazaar has tired me out and I think I may take a sneaky nap.’
‘I don’t blame you. This heat is a killer. But I have to go back to the office in any case. I just needed a few hours’ peace and quiet to go through some difficult correspondence.’
She went to the table and poured herself a glass of water and drank it down thirstily. Mike’s words surprised her. She remembered Grayson saying that the administration team was short staffed, and it seemed odd that his friend had been unable to find a quiet haven in which to work, but perhaps the offices were in more of a mess than Grayson realised. His passion lay in fieldwork, she knew, and he was more than happy to leave the paperwork to someone else. But Mike must feel just the same and she felt sorry he had the unenviable task of trawling an endless succession of files in the meagre hope that he might uncover a clue to Javinder’s whereabouts.
He tucked his briefcase beneath one arm and walked to the door. ‘You look a trifle hot still,’ he said. ‘Ahmed is ordering me a tonga. Shall I ask him to bring you some tea?’
‘You’re right. I am hot, and tired too. I’d forgotten how tired you get—I’ve no energy left. But I’ll settle for water, thanks. I don’t want to delay you. I may be utterly lazy but I know the wheels of industry must keep turning.’
‘Not much industry going on, I’m afraid. We’re on a bit of a wild goose chase.’
‘Grayson doesn’t appear to think so,’ she said carefully. ‘He’s expecting to leave in a few days. This morning, when we drove into town, he was talking about the equipment he needs to order.’ It had been news to her that he needed to prepare so extensively for his travels. ‘I wasn’t sure what exactly he had in mind.’
‘I imagine he’ll be camping, so a tent, cooking utensils, that kind of thing.’
‘Then he must be anticipating a long journey.’
‘Who knows?’ Mike shrugged his shoulders. ‘It’s a crazy idea, a crazy trip and fraught with danger, but you know Grayson.’ His smile was a little off centre. ‘He’s no idea where Joshi could be, except a vague notion that the man travelled north, but he’s setting off come what may. He’s too stubborn for his own good. For all he knows, the chap could be dead by now.’
‘So there’s been no more news?’
‘Nothing. We haven’t a clue, but I sure as hell wouldn’t start traipsing through Rajasthan in this excruciating heat. Not to mention the restive natives. And all on the off chance that I might come across a missing man. He’s probably gone walkabout to see his family. I’ve been told they come from an adjoining state, so it’s more than likely.’
‘I suggested that to Grayson, but he said Javinder was far too conscientious to do such a thing.’
‘He would, wouldn’t he? He trained him. But whatever the truth of the matter, I haven’t been able to persuade him out of this fool’s errand.’
She took another long drink of water, then looked up to find that Mike had left his case by the door and walked back into the room. He was standing very near, his face serious, and when he spoke he leaned towards her to emphasise his words. ‘I haven’t persuaded him, Daisy, but you could. And I hope you’ll try.’
She felt herself grow hot with embarrassment. ‘I doubt I’d be any more successful. I don’t have that much influence.’ Maybe once, she thought, but not any more.
‘You underestimate yourself. You mean a lot to him and he’ll listen to you. There’s still time to get him to think again.’
She felt trapped. She didn’t want Grayson to walk into unknown dangers, any more than Mike did, but neither did she want to do or say anything that might unsettle their new relationship. At the moment, it seemed to be working. It was affectionate but mercifully uncommitted. If she pleaded with Grayson too hard, she might raise expectations she couldn’t fulfil.
Mike walked back to the door and picked up his briefcase. ‘Talk to him tonight,’ he urged. ‘He can still be made to abandon this wild project.’
‘Tonga here, Mister Corrigan.’ Ahmed had come quietly into the room and she was spared from answering. Mike gave her a brief nod and strode towards the veranda.
‘See you at supper,’ he said over his shoulder.
The sound of hooves on the gravel signalled that Mike was on his way to town. The house was within easy reach of Jasirapur, just a short tonga ride away. Unlike the lonely bungalow she’d visited this morning. That had been a thieves’ den, but had also been her prison, and she could never think of the place or what happened there without her heart beginning to trip and her stomach to knot. So she wouldn’t think of it.
Ahmed had returned, this time bearing another large jug. ‘For you, memsahib. Water is very cold. I think you are still feeling bad.’
‘I’m afraid so.’
She smiled her thanks and allowed another glass of the liquid to slide icily down her throat, then sat for some while simply enjoying the feeling. It was strange how uncomfortable she’d felt when Mike was in the room and it made her pause. He’d seemed so insistent that she intervene with Grayson. Perhaps that was it. But when she thought more, she realised she hadn’t felt entirely easy with him during the whole journey. Even on the ship, his heartiness had seemed a little forced. She hardly knew him, of course, whereas Grayson and he had been colleagues, good friends too, for many years. But in the short time she’d spent with him during the war, he’d seemed almost a different man.
He’d driven her to the safe house in Highgate, except that it had turned out to be anything but safe. At least not for her. He’d been easy-going, she recalled, pleasant, chatty. He was still friendly enough but she had the sense of it being purely a surface emotion. He’d lost the genuine warmth she remembered, that was it. She wondered if he resented her being here. Grayson might have voiced his doubts but Mike had seemed happy to include her in the trip. He’d welcomed her effusively, perhaps too effusively. After all, she’d invited herself, imposed herself on what had been an all-male adventure. He’d probably been looking forward to working closely with his friend—a last grab at the old life, Grayson had called it. In London, he might have been