Bangalore. Roger Crook

Чтение книги онлайн.

СКАЧАТЬ for anyone who doesn’t want fish, the alternative is cold chicken.” Nobody answered, so he left to tell Alice.

      Roddy was looking out on the garden and Rachael and Pat had moved three or so paces away from Michelle talking, laughing and drinking their beer. She moved to join them smiling but determined not to give up on the question of drinking beer. “Aren’t you two worried that you’ll get a tummy drinking beer, no sign of it now – but as you get older?”

      “Not me, Mother,” answered Rachael. “I still swim four or five times a week; try and do my fifty laps if I can. How about you, Pat?”

      “We’re lucky. We have a good gym on base, including a swimming pool. I’m not a big swimmer but I play squash when I can and I’m hooked on jogging. I also go surfing as often as I can.”

      “There you go, Mother,” said Rachael. “You should tell that personal fitness coach of yours that you want to drink beer. He’ll give you some tummy exercises to keep it all in control.”

      “I’ve never drunk beer, you know that; well, not since I was about nineteen anyway.” When there was no reply from either girl she walked over to Roddy and stood talking to him.

      Chapter 5.

       Getting to know the family.

      Pat hadn’t had a chance to see the dining room at Bangalore. It was a big room dominated by portraits of ancestors and landscapes of not only the Gascoyne region, but also, she presumed, of Scotland. The big table could easily seat twelve, so the five places had been set at one end, two on each side and one at the head of the table. Pat looked at it again and realised the table could be extended beyond its current size to maybe seat twenty. Down the centre of the table was a white linen runner on which had been laid two bowls of salad, salad cream and the condiments. Angus sat Pat and Rachael together and Roddy and Michelle opposite them.

      The dining area was barely half of the room. Twenty or more people could easily fit into an area furnished with big sofas and armchairs and small tables of all shapes and sizes, pieces of furniture collected through the ages. On the far wall was a huge stone fireplace, now fitted with a modern slow combustion stove, wood neatly stacked at each side. Above the fireplace was what she presumed to be the Sinclair Coat of Arms.

      At first, looking round, she thought it a strange room as it was in the middle of the house with one window facing north. Inside there were heavy wooden shutters the same as on the outside. Angus noticed and reading her mind explained. “I think old man Sinclair built this room to be the strongest room in the house. They were always concerned about, maybe frightened of, cyclones. The north-facing window intrigued me until I realised that the room would seldom be used during the day, and in the afternoon the summer sun would have passed, and in the winter, for what winter is up here, a north-facing window would provide little warmth. So this is the cyclone shelter really. I’ll put the lights on one night and you can see how I’ve played with the features. It really is a great room for a dinner party. They say John Forrest had dinner here several times, and other Premiers after him.”

      Once seated, Rachael whispered in Pat’s ear and they both got up and left the room only to return a few moments later carrying five plates with fillets of fish garnished with parsley and a wedge of lemon. Pat sat down and Rachael went back to the kitchen and returned with a dish of freshly boiled and buttered small potatoes. Angus exchanged glances with his daughter and he smiled. They both knew that it was only a matter of time before Alice and Michelle came face to face. He knew that Alice would not stray from her end of the house and he knew that Michelle would not break the habit of a lifetime and go into the kitchen, especially if Alice were there; just the same, he knew that they could not avoid each other for ever.

      Pat was pleased that lunch was dominated with easy conversation. The fish melted in the mouth; the chardonnay was cold as was an old and golden bottle of Riesling. Roddy congratulated Angus on his wine and asked intelligent questions of both her and Rachael.

      Michelle for a while, held forth about the coming opera season and the rumour that Placido Domingo would do two farewell concerts in Perth. When no one showed any interest in those remarks she told them in detail about their new house at Dunsborough. As she talked the mood around the table changed. Now Michelle had the floor and she held forth as she would at any lunch among friends.

      Roddy had bought the house next door and they had bulldozed both houses and made one big block and construction had nearly finished on the new house. While they were away she told them, she had made a quick trip to Italy to choose the tiles for the floors and the furniture for the dining room and lounge, as she couldn’t find what she wanted in Perth. By the time she got to the bathrooms Rachael had had enough. “Mother, how many days a week are you going to live in this new palace?”

      “Hardly a palace, darling. It only has four bedrooms.”

      “All en-suite, I suppose?”

      “Of course, darling.”

      “And a tennis court, at a beach house?”

      “Some people don’t like the beach. They might like to play tennis.”

      “You don’t like the beach, Mother, and you’re never going to be there anyway.”

      “Yes I am, at the weekends and for holidays in the summer. Anyway it’s there for the family, isn’t it, Roddy? Anyone can use it.”

      Roddy didn’t answer Michelle’s question. Instead, he fixed Rachael with the same stare he’d used on Pat when they had first met, only this time he wasn’t smiling. He looked a little annoyed at the way Rachael had challenged her mother. “It’s an investment, Rachael, you know that. When you’ve qualified as a specialist and can charge patients what I am sure you are worth, you’ll be looking for the same thing. It’s called insuring your old age.” His tone was sufficiently patronising to show that he didn’t like Michelle, and by default him, being examined so bluntly.

      Rachael looked at him for a moment, unblinking. “You mean it’s a tax lurk?”

      “Tax minimisation. Superannuation.”

      “Same thing. But no, Roddy, I’ll pay my taxes like everyone should and next June, after I’ve qualified in obstetrics, I’m off with Médecins Sans Frontières, for a couple of years at least.”

      At this news Angus looked at his daughter with a quizzical smile and she reached over the table and held his hand. “Sorry, Angus, should have told you, but it only became final last Wednesday.”

      “Where are you going, do you know?”

      “Back to the country of my ancestors, India. About 200 kilometres north of, would you believe, Bangalore? I didn’t choose that. I just said India, if I could. There’s a little hospital there without a trained obstetrician and about ten births a day and that’s a lot considering that most women have their children at home. The hospital gets the problem births and the sick babies.”

      “You’ll probably find that you’re related to some of them.”

      “Hope so. Wouldn’t that be exciting?”

      Michelle looked hurt at being excluded from a brief moment of touching between father and daughter. She smiled and said, “But, Rachael – your Indian ancestors are four or five generations ago. You’re hardly Indian, well only a little bit.”

      “Sorry Mother but it’s СКАЧАТЬ