‘Why is Kiri helping?’
‘The puppeteer is her father.’
‘But she doesn’t live with her family?’
‘She cannot. To work at the castle she must live at the castle.’
After the scene by the river the three wandered through the bazaars dodging the bicycles, the cows lying asleep, and the wares laid out on the pavements, only stopping to wrap brightly coloured scarves around each other’s throats and to try on necklaces, while posing and giggling.
‘You suit the Indian style of dressing, Eliza.’
‘But why did I need to dress like this? Surely I could have just covered my head?’
‘Yes. But I thought it would be more fun and fewer people would stare at you this way.’
Eliza smiled. She was enjoying herself, if a bit conscious of her pale skin; unusually light-hearted and full of admiration for Indi’s knowledge of the town, she seemed to be discovering a different part of herself. Nobody bothered the girls and the streets throbbed with a mix of women still in purdah and those who had come out. They bought little cooked flour-balls orgolgappeand also lentil fritters that Indira calleddaalbaatichurma, and went to one of the parks to eat them.
By the time they reached the beginning of the hill it was dusk, and Eliza looked up in amazement. The entire fortress was now brilliantly lit and seemed to have been brushed with gold. Every sparkling window beckoned, and it occurred to Eliza that if she didn’t hold on she would drop into fairyland, never to return to the real world. It had been a lovely, happy day, a day to rejoice at how easy life could be when you didn’t have to try to protect yourself. Eliza hoped that she and Indi might become real friends. It was a long time since she’d had a real friend.
8
Eliza had been dreaming of Oliver in the night, and when she woke old forgotten feelings and memories came unbidden from the depths of her heart. She couldn’t stop thinking of the day she had met him. She’d caused him to drop the pile of books he’d been carrying when she’d accidentally bumped into him in a bookshop, or rather, walked backwards into him. When she’d bent down to help him gather them up, she’d seen they were all about art, including catalogues of exhibitions in London and Paris. She’d squatted on the floor gazing at the photographs and then he’d sat down beside her. At first she could only nod wordlessly but, after a few moments of talking about the weather, they’d both begun to laugh. It had been funny sitting on the floor with a complete stranger. And then he’d helped her up and invited her to join him at the tea shop next door.
The good times hadn’t lasted and she thought of the day they had quarrelled so violently. All she’d said was that she wanted to become a photographer. He wasn’t supposed to die, but he’d been so angry, slamming the door and marching out into the street without understanding her reasons. She’d been afraid, as if punched hard in the pit of her stomach, and she had been right to fear: Oliver had not seen the bus that killed him and she had learnt to swallow the agonizing guilt.
A knock at the door interrupted her memories and she was surprised to find thedewan, Chatur, waiting for her. He didn’t smile, and with a look of disdain held out a sheet of paper with just the tips of his fingers.
‘I have brought a list of the people you should photograph and the order in which it is to be done. You will see I have suggested suitable locations too.’
‘I see.’
He gave her a cool smile. ‘I’m sure I can afford the time to be present on some of these occasions, but if I’m not available one of the guards will accompany you.’
Resenting the intrusion, Eliza frowned. ‘I do like to choose my subjects myself and I thought I was to have free access.’
‘Up to a point, Miss Fraser. Up to a point. Well, I trust you will find the list useful. I have some guards waiting to be photographed now. You’ll find them in the nearest courtyard.’
As he bowed and turned to go Eliza thought about what Laxmi had said. Surely she was to be allowed to do whatever she wished, not follow anybody’s orders. She would simply ignore Chatur’s list.
Out in the courtyard the three guards stood in a stiff formal line and nothing she could say made the slightest difference. She was racking her brain trying to work out how to get a more informal shot when Dev turned up and stared at her. She took in his hair, shorter than Jay’s, his eyes, which were darker, and, with a larger nose, his face had a rougher look about it. There was also a slightly odd feel to him, as if he was balanced on a fine line, though his fixed smile gave nothing away. He looked back at her warily at first but then, after sizing up the situation, seemed to change.
‘Need some help?’ he said.
‘Not really, though I can’t seem to get them to relax. I really want to catch them in an unguarded moment.’
Dev glanced across at them and appeared to be thinking. Then he smiled. ‘I have the very thing.’
He produced something from the bag he carried and also took out a small pouch. At the sight of it the guards came straight over to him. He spoke a few words and they nodded without a second glance at Eliza.
‘It’s a game,’ he told Eliza. ‘We call itchallas.’
He unrolled a large canvas square that seemed to be covered in silk with squares and designs all over it. Then he squatted down on the ground and the men joined him. He emptied tokens and cowrie shells from the pouch and she noticed that the board itself was truly beautiful.
‘You know your way around, don’t you?’ she said.
He had his back to her but she saw him nod and then seem to forget she was there. It was very clever of him, because now she could take the shots she really wanted. But she couldn’t quite work Dev out. One minute he seemed to be almost suspicious of her and the next so very helpful. Why?
During a short break in the game he got to his feet and came across to her. ‘It’s a game we’ve played for centuries. We used it to teach young men war tactics and strategy.’
