The Wheel of Surya. Jamila Gavin

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СКАЧАТЬ her own kind, not servants’ children. And if you don’t mind my saying, I wish you would take more part in our affairs. You keep yourself too much to yourself. People notice, you know. Why don’t you come along to the Mothers’ Union or the Women’s Institute; the club is doing a Gilbert and Sullivan this autumn. You and Harold should get involved. I hear you’re a pianist. We’re going to need a pianist. Shall I tell Major Pocock? He’s producing it.’

      ‘I’m not sure,’ replied Dora, reluctantly. ‘I’ll think about it, and let him know myself.’

      Miss Alcock shrugged. ‘Please yourself,’ she said through pursed lips.

      She went over to her bicycle, which was leaning against the verandah steps, and put on her topee.

      ‘Hey you! Girl!’ She hailed Marvinder who turned automatically at the commanding voice. ‘Open the gate!’

      Marvinder, who had Jaspal on her hip, began to hurry up the drive, but Edith overtook her calling out, ‘I’ll go!’

      Frowning, Miss Alcott pedalled through on to the road. ‘Thank you, Edith,’ she said primly, ‘but I think you should have let the girl open the gate.’

      ‘Oh, but I like opening gates,’ cried Edith. ‘Come on, Marvi!’ she called. ‘Come and swing!’

      ‘She’s turning into a heathen, there’s no doubt about it, poor child,’ muttered Miss Alcott as she cycled away. ‘I must ask Cyril to intervene.’

      It came from under the toy cupboard, the snake. Edith saw its eyes first of all, like bright beads, glinting in the dusty darkness. Then as it ventured further into the room, its head swayed from side to side, like a scout examining the lie of the land. Every now and then, its tongue flashed from its mouth like lightning.

      The lizard on the wall froze, still as an ornament, and even the sunlight, falling in warm dappled patches across the carpet, seemed to cool.

      Edith watched it from her rocking horse. She only paused for a moment with surprise, her mouth opening instinctively to exclaim, but shutting it again without a sound.

      Ayah had got her ready for church. Like a passive doll, Edith had allowed herself to be dressed in her hated pink frock with the white smocking across the chest; had allowed her feet to be imprisoned in white socks, and the white, leather shoes with a fold-over strap which buttoned and pinched.

      Now she sat on the rocking horse while old Shanta brushed her hair. It was one of the ayah’s favourite tasks. She loved trapping the long, golden tresses in the bristles and lifting it outwards, like a river, a river which then became a cataract, streaming down as she gradually released it from the brush.

      When Edith briefly stopped rocking, Shanta was pleased. It gave her a chance to thrust the brush close to the scalp and pull through the tangles which had gathered in the night. But then Edith casually resumed her motion, her eyes never leaving the snake, as it edged its way along the fringe of the carpet, head reaching forwards, then that slight pause, while the rest of its body caught up in a swift S.

      The playpen stood in the middle of the carpet. Jhoti had just bathed and changed the twins. They rolled around like little buddhas, chubby arms and legs flailing among the teddies and wooden bricks. Ralph saw it first; chortled with delight at the undulating patterns on its scaly back; reached out a hand through the wooden bars of the playpen, longing to grasp its writhing body.

      Edith went on rocking. She didn’t say a word, though her eye was fixed on the snake.

      At the sight of Ralph’s hand, the creature halted. It lifted its narrow head, its tongue flickering with curiosity. Edith stopped rocking a second time. In the pause, Ayah took the comb and rapidly divided her hair with a parting and began plaiting with deft fingers.

      The room, the lizard, the older sister stopped breathing. How long is a moment? Then somewhere in the universe, a god blinked and life started again. The snake moved on, sliding away towards the watery coolness of the bathroom beyond. Ralph withdrew his hand, disappointed, and Edith went on rocking.

      Edith always accompanied her parents to church. They cycled the mile down the road, Edith riding in front of her father on the crossbar. He in his smart, light brown suit with topee on head, and Dora in some suitable, long-sleeved cotton frock, with one hand alternating between keeping her billowing skirts in check or hanging on to her white, panama hat.

      Now that Jhoti helped Ayah to look after the twins, Marvinder was given charge of Jaspal for long periods of time. It was rare to see Marvinder without Jaspal growing out of her hip like a second torso. On Sundays, she too made her way to the church. It was by a different route, across the fields and through the mango groves. Today she went as usual, picking her way among the gravestones, round the back of the tall, grey walls of the stone church to the east door. Here, old Ram Singh crouched like a gnome, toothless and rheumatic that he was, and pumped air through the bellows into the organ, while Mr Austin, the organist, produced music which made the wooden floors vibrate.

      Often, Marvinder folded her veil, put it on the ground and laid Jaspal on it so that she was free to have a go at pumping the organ. Ram Singh didn’t mind. It gave him a break to have a smoke. Just so long as she pumped evenly and didn’t jerk the bellows.

      ‘O God, our help in ages past,

      Our hope of years to come,’

      Marvinder sang along with the congregation. She knew the words without knowing the meaning, and she loved the shudder of the organ when Mr Austin used his feet and produced the loud, deep vibrating chords for the last verse.

      When at last it was time for the sermon, Edith was always allowed to flee the tedium of sitting through the Reverend Alcott’s droning voice. Her leather shoes would echo with relief down the stone aisle as she hastened out in search of Marvinder. They would play hide and seek among the graves, sometimes their laughter reached the older members of the congregation who looked accusingly at Dora. Or the girls would simply wander about looking with awe at the kindly, stone faces of guardian angels, and trace their fingers over the inlaid words on the headstones.

      That Sunday, the Sunday of 3 September 1939, Mr Austin was playing the hymn, ‘There is a green hill far away without a city wall’. When it ended, there was the usual pause, while people closed their hymn books and shuffled themselves into some kind of comfortable position for the sermon. Marvinder waited for Edith to come out, but she didn’t appear. Getting impatient, she left Jaspal lying on her veil near Ram Singh, and crept up to the organ loft. Noiselessly, she peered down through the balustrade at the congregation all splashed in different colours with reflections from the stained glass windows.

      The vicar was speaking in a solemn voice, but somehow, today it seemed different. Everybody had their eyes on him, even Edith. No one fidgeted or dozed; no one’s eyes wandered around the church. Then suddenly, they all knelt down with bowed heads and clasped hands and began to pray. Someone hurried up into the organ loft and among anxious whispers, Mr Austin flicked through the hymn book looking for a change of hymn. Then when the vicar had stopped speaking, they all sang ‘Abide with me’, in a very slow, sad way.

      Marvinder went back into the churchyard and waited. At last, the service was over, but when everyone emerged from the church, they came out silently. No one was talking. The vicar stood as usual at the door, shaking hands, but no one smiled.

      Edith emerged holding her mother’s hand. She looked ill at ease. On seeing Marvinder she detached herself and ran over to her.

      ‘What’s СКАЧАТЬ