Eliza shook her head, and now that Dottie was close she seemed to realize something was up. ‘Dear God,’ she said. ‘Whatever is the matter? You look as if you have seen a ghost.’
Eliza couldn’t have spoken even if she had wanted to. She had come to India, to Rajputana, so full of expectations, but never in a million years with the thought that she might discover a sister.
‘Take these keys,’ Dottie was saying. ‘There are two bedrooms, still made up. Not our furniture, you see. Stay as long as you need to. The rent is paid until the end of next month.’
Eliza nodded. ‘Thank you. I still have to choose my final prints, so I’ll do it while I’m here.’
‘Just a sec, I’ll write down our new address.’ Dottie dashed inside and came back out with a folded piece of paper. ‘I don’t know what’s happened to make you look like that, but if you ever need a friend, write to me. Visit. Whatever …’
Eliza swallowed the lump growing in her throat and wished her friend wasn’t leaving. At the same time she realized she might never be able to speak of this.
Dottie held out her arms and they hugged, and then, after a few moments had passed, they let each other go and Dottie climbed into the waiting car and was gone. Eliza watched as the car disappeared into the distance. It had seemed terribly quiet while Dottie had been there, but now the noises of Juraipore assaulted her: children yelling, peasants selling their produce, the city folk going about their day. She covered her ears with her hands and ran indoors.
37
Eliza spent a restless night at Dottie’s, her dreams ranging from being caught in wild desert fires to searching for the boiled sweets her father used to hide in his pockets; only when she looked up it was not her father’s face she saw but that of Chatur. They say we deal with our problems in our dreams, but Eliza’s were too numerous to ever be resolved. She had, however, woken with the clear resolution that she must speak to Indi, despite the way the thought of it made her feel.
When she had picked out the photographs for framing, she called at the castle and marvelled again at the view of the huge fortifications rising from the rock face under a light lemony sky, and the battlements appearing to spread for miles. As a liveried servant led her along corridors with polished stucco walls, softly glowing like the shells of eggs, she still didn’t know if Indi would be there or back at the village. They crossed a flowering courtyard with a central fountain glittering in the sunlight and surrounded by a marble veranda, and then they went into a part of the castle she didn’t know. Here the air smelt less of jasmine and more of cardamom and spice. The man told her this was the herb and vegetable garden, and they were in the part of the castle at the back of the kitchens.
‘Through here,’ he said, when the courtyards came to an end, and led her to semi-concealed stairs. They began the climb and carried on right to the top, where they continued through a bewildering series of connected courtyards enclosed by high walls and scalloped arches on every side. When they arrived at a small turret-like building he opened a door that immediately gave on to another steep, winding staircase.
‘This way?’ Eliza asked, feeling a little uneasy. The man nodded and began to climb. At the top he rang a rope bell attached to a pale blue door. Eliza hadn’t known what to expect, but heard the tinkling of an anklet and was relieved when Indi herself appeared.
‘These are your rooms?’ Eliza said in surprise.
‘My room.’
‘Why here?’
‘Come inside and you’ll see.’
Eliza followed Indira into what would have been an octagonal chamber but for the part of it that was attached to the main building. In her overheated frame of mind, Eliza was relieved that a fresh breeze floated through the five tall narrow windows. This was nothing like the dark and gloomy corridors of thezenana, divided as they were into different apartments for Laxmi, Priya and the concubines. This was an enchanted place, light and fresh. Hypnotized, Eliza felt as if she was right up in the clouds.
‘It was a lookout tower,’ Indira said. ‘Come and see the view.’
Eliza went across to one of the windows and could see a magnificent panorama of the entire town laid out below her and far into the plains beyond.
‘It’s small, but I love it up here. Once they put glass in the windows it became the only place I really wanted to be.’
There was no furniture other than a colouredcharpoyloaded with cushions, a rug on the floor, a trunk and several square floor cushions.
Indira indicated they should sit but, unwilling to leave the window, Eliza remained where she could see the view. While she stayed there she could listen to the sound of goat bells carried on the wind, and hear the murmur of the trees, with the intoxicating fragrance of rose and jasmine rising from below. She saw distant splashes of bright colour and realized they were the women’s scarves, flapping on the washing lines as they dried.
When she reluctantly moved away from the view she turned to face Indira and gazed at her for a few moments before lowering herself on to a cushion. ‘I can see why you love it up here,’ she said.
But what she wanted to say was, how dare you be my father’s child? She knew such petulance wasn’t going to help, and yet she still could not begin to unravel her mixed emotions.
Indira wasn’t speaking either but sat folding and unfolding the long scarf she frequently draped over her head. Today she wore a simple skirt and blouse, sandals, and her hair was left loose. She looked as if she belonged in a turret, Eliza thought, a damsel waiting for rescue, and in many ways that’s what she was. A feeling of pity washed over Eliza. This slight girl, with such tiny hands and feet, had not had the best start in life. Her grandmother had done all she could to make up for the absence of her mother and father, but could it ever have been enough?
At that moment Indi spoke. ‘You know, then? I can see it in your eyes.’
Perhaps Indi had sensed a softening, Eliza thought, perhaps she had spotted an opening that Eliza herself had been unwilling, or unable, to find. She dug a nail into the fleshy part of her palm. ‘I can’t talk about it.’
They were both silent for several minutes, Eliza still listening to the sounds of the outer world occasionally drifting through.
‘Tell me about your childhood,’ Eliza eventually said.
‘If you mean our father –’
