Secrets and Lies. Jaishree Misra

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      Mrs Menon departed in a flurry of apologies and chalk dust and Miss Lamb now stepped forward, clearing her throat in the way she did when she wanted their total attention. This was not a problem today as the class sat rapt before her, silenced by their curiosity. The last new girl this particular batch had received was Natasha Walia, whose father had been posted back to India after a long stint abroad in the diplomatic service—and that had been a good six years ago.

      ‘This, my dear girls,’ Miss Lamb said to them, ‘is Lily D’Souza. Lily is new, not just to our school, but indeed to Delhi, having just moved here from Sacred Heart convent school in Mussourie. I know some of you are quite familiar with Mussourie, travelling up there for your summer holidays, so I do not need to tell you what a big change this is for Lily, who has never been to Delhi before.’

      Anita noticed that the girl next to Miss Lamb remained unsmiling, plucking absently at the canvas strap of the bag she was carrying slung across her torso as though it were a guitar.

      ‘My dear girls,’ Miss Lamb continued, ‘I know I don’t need to tell you to make Lily comfortable and welcome. Now, where can we find room for Lily to sit?’ Miss Lamb scanned the room and nodded approvingly as she saw the dependable Samira move up on her bench in the front row to make room. As the principal gestured, Lily walked hesitantly towards the rows of girls, unslinging her bag and holding it ahead of her. Anita observed Sam smiling warmly, even using her tissue to clean Lily’s side of the desk, but she could now no longer see the face of the new girl, only a ponytail of straight brown hair that hung down her back all the way to her waist. The girl sat down, shoving her bag between herself and Sam, and, as the bell went, Miss Lamb opened her tattered copy of Macbeth to begin her lesson.

      Anita’s concentration was poor in the hour that followed, even though Lamb’s classes were always the high point of her school day. Today the principal was wittering on about the nature of ambition and did not seem to be quite herself either, gripped by a preoccupied air that was infecting the whole class with a kind of listlessness.

      When the bell finally rang for the lunch-break, Miss Lamb looked as relieved as everyone else, setting the group an essay on the banquet scene as homework, before leaving for the dining hall. Anita got up and stretched with a loud groan. She scanned the room. Sam seemed to have taken the new girl under her wing already, opening up her foil pack of cheese sandwiches and offering her one.

      Anita and Bubbles joined the small group that had already gathered around Lily and Sam’s desk.

      ‘Are you related to Miss Lamb?’ Natasha was asking the new girl.

      Anita saw Lily hesitate for a minute before a set of invisible shutters descended over her face. She pursed her lips, suddenly acquiring a mean expression as she said with more vehemence, ‘No, we’re not related. I’m nothing at all to that horrid old bat.’

      There was a collective horrified intake of breath. No one ever spoke about Miss Lamb in that tone of voice. Even the nickname of Lamboo, used by generations of St Jude’s schoolgirls, was only ever employed affectionately.

      Sam hastily changed the subject. ‘Oh, Bubs, one of your pimples has just burst,’ she said.

      Attention turned to Bubbles, who clamped a piece of tissue, spotted with blood, back to her chin. ‘Oh God,’ she mumbled through her clamped jaw, ‘I had just two pieces of cashew burfi last night, y’know, and see the reaction!’

      ‘Let’s have a look,’ Zeba said, ‘I may have some Clearasil in my bag.’

      Bubbles gingerly removed her hand, eliciting a chorus of moans.

      ‘Christ, that’s a prize one,’ Natasha said.

      ‘And look, there’s a new one sprouting right next to it.’

      ‘Clearasil won’t work, those need Dettol.’

      ‘Or DDT even!’

      Sam’s ruse had successfully drawn everyone’s attention away from the new girl and Anita noticed that even Lily was now smiling, although she couldn’t tell if Lily’s subsequent attempt at humour was malicious. ‘Etna and Krakatoa, that’s what those two are,’ she said.

      ‘Who?’ Bubbles enquired, nonplussed, but Lily shook her head, smiling to herself.

      Anita stepped in to rescue her friend. ‘Okay, everyone, stop treating Bubs like a prize exhibit. We’re off to the dining hall now, if anyone wants to join us for some five-star world cuisine.’

      Victoria Lamb decided not to join the throng in the dining hall, as was her usual custom. Instead, she walked down the southern corridor and past the music room, where the sound of a trombone was blaring tunelessly over the lunchtime hubbub. She had this morning given Lily money to buy a hot lunch in the canteen but would herself return to her cottage, which lay on the far side of the rambling school grounds. Lakhan would rustle up a sandwich for her, which she would eat quietly in her study overlooking the rose garden. She deserved a little peace and quiet after the traumatic events of the past few days, not made any easier by Lily’s difficult behaviour.

      Victoria unlatched the small wicket gate that led to the rose garden and walked to her cottage, dipping her head to avoid damaging the flowers of the madhumalati that were dangling crimson over the door. She turned on the cooler, still thinking of Lily’s obstreperous conduct since her arrival. The rusty old machine sent a welcome blast of cool air through the cottage and Victoria exhaled in relief, relishing the respite, not just from the heat but also from the past few days of argument and tears. Who could blame the poor child, though? What Lily had undergone lay beyond the bounds of most people’s imaginations, certainly her own, and what the girl most needed now was stability and quiet, unquestioning acceptance. Love and other such things would gradually follow in their own time. Victoria certainly hadn’t thought it prudent to tell Samira more than what was absolutely necessary this morning, of course. Heaven knew what the girls would make of the whole thing, if they found out. Or, for that matter, their parents! An exclusive and well-reputed school such as Jude’s really couldn’t afford a scandal of any sort.

      Victoria popped her head into the kitchen, startling old Lakhan who was pottering at the stove, probably brewing his fifteenth cup of tea.

      ‘Mere liye bhi ek cup chai, Lakhan,’ she said, ‘Aur sandwich. Kya hai fridge mein? Tomato? Ham?’ She paused, waiting while her Nepali cook rummaged around inside the cavernous old fridge, emerging finally with a rather shrivelled cucumber. ‘Accha, cucumber sandwich theekh hai,’ she said resignedly.

      Victoria Lamb walked into the cool of her darkened study and, rather than turning on the light, opened the drawn curtains slightly. Harsh sunshine poured in through the crack and for a moment she closed her eyes tightly shut. Slowly opening them a few seconds later, she blinked uncomfortably, letting her vision get used to the glare. Her eyes wandered over her shorn rose bushes and empty flowerbeds. May in Delhi was a bleak time in many ways. Not the best season to have Lily brought here but there hadn’t really been a choice. Still, in another few weeks it would be the summer holidays. She ought to think of going somewhere with the poor girl—a short vacation. Not to the hills, of course, that would be most injudicious. But anywhere else would be far too hot. Perhaps staying in Delhi would be best; giving Lily time to find her feet and get used to each other and the city. Victoria sat upright on her armchair, unable to physically relax when there was so much on her mind. She absently polished the glasses that hung around her neck. How unusual it would be this summer to have someone around during the long holidays, when everyone else, staff and students, went off with their families to all sorts of jolly destinations. СКАЧАТЬ