Daisy's Long Road Home Read online

  ‘And you’re still busy. You’ve travelled halfway round the world for this adventure.’

  He pulled down the corners of his mouth in a gesture of disgust. ‘To find a missing employee, who will no doubt walk back into the office at any time?’

  ‘Grayson doesn’t think so.’

  ‘Then Grayson is wrong. Just this once, he’s wrong. Javinder Joshi will turn up sooner or later, you’ll see, and we’ll have spent precious time and energy looking for him. And Grayson will have spent far more—his safety, for instance.’

  It was difficult to counter Mike’s pessimism, but she tried. ‘He told me this trip was a last chance for you to work together, and that has to be a good thing surely.’

  ‘But we won’t be working together, will we? Grayson will be in the field and I won’t. He’s about to charge off into the unknown, while I’m stuck in this stuffy little box, weighted down by a ton of paper and sweating hour upon hour, with nothing to show for it.’

  He had a point and she wondered why Grayson hadn’t ordered things more agreeably. ‘Perhaps if you told him how you felt, he’d change his mind. There must be someone who can staff the office while you’re both away, someone you can rely on.’

  He was looking at her queerly. ‘That wouldn’t do at all.’

  ‘But why not? You haven’t been able to discover anything useful, have you?’ She wanted very much to see the old, happier Mike back. ‘Why not go with Grayson? You have the perfect excuse now that his wrist is injured. I’d feel much happier if you were alongside.’

  ‘Thank you, Daisy. That’s nice of you. But he’s made up his mind. He’s travelling solo and really I shouldn’t expect anything else.’

  ‘I don’t see why.’

  ‘Don’t you?’ His face had an ugly twisted look again. ‘I didn’t come to India for one last adventure, whatever Grayson likes to think. I came because he needed me and, in recent years, I’ve always been at his shoulder. But, once we’re back in London, that will be it. He won’t need me any longer. No one will.’

  ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘Put simply, I’m a has-been, my dear. The service thinks it and so does Grayson, though he’s too polite to say so.’

  ‘I’m sure that’s not true.’ She wasn’t sure, but she felt his hurt acutely and words were all the consolation she had.

  ‘And I’m just as certain that it is. They’ve pushed me out. And for what? To make way for men returning from India. That’s a neat irony, isn’t it? They’re younger, you see. Not quite so battered. The fact that I’ve been injured in service is unfortunate. I’ve played my part and now I can be abandoned.’

  His bitterness went deep, very deep. It went a long way to explaining his erratic moods and the fact that he’d turned on her so fiercely. In his view, he was doing all he could to support Grayson even as the axe hovered over him, while she was too busy with her own petty affairs to do the same.

  ‘I can see how difficult it must be, when you’ve devoted your life to the service,’ she ventured.

  ‘Can you? I wonder … A lot of bad things have happened to you, I know. But you’re still young and you’ve time to turn your life around. You’ll marry again—yes.’ He nodded his head, as she started to protest. ‘You might not think so now, but you will. You’ll marry and have a family and live a whole different life. I’ve never had a wife, never had children. You don’t miss a family, you see, not while the work keeps coming. People who love you would be a burden when you’re putting your life on the line. It’s when the adrenaline stops humming that you realise what you’ve given away.’

  ‘But you’ve enjoyed your work. You’ve enjoyed it hugely—you said so. There are bound to be good memories,’ she reminded him.

  ‘How good are they really though? How much do they compensate? I can live without a wife and children. God knows, I’ve done it for long enough. But without a country—that’s a whole different matter.’

  ‘Without a country?’ she echoed.

  ‘I’m Irish, or hadn’t you noticed?’

  She knew, of course, that he was Irish. The pale Celtic skin, the red hair, would have blazoned it clearly enough, even if Grayson had never told her.

  She was perplexed. ‘But you have a country—Ireland.’

  ‘It’s no longer mine.’ The stern certainty robbed the words of their tawdry flourish. ‘I’ve betrayed my country, didn’t you know? That’s what many of my fellow countrymen think. I’ve betrayed Ireland by working for Britain. And for what exactly? Where has my loyalty to a foreign land actually got me?’

  When she said nothing, he muttered, ‘Not a reciprocal loyalty, that’s for sure. My so-called employers didn’t think twice. When the need came, they jettisoned me like some worn-out piece of machinery. That’s why they call it the scrap heap, isn’t it?’

  He gave a bark of angry laughter, then shuffled the papers about on his desk and looked towards the door. He seemed to be regretting his outburst and hoping she would leave. She couldn’t fight such coruscating feelings, no one could, and she’d no wish to continue their argument. But she still wanted to speak to Grayson. Perhaps if she waited a little longer he would return, and she could tell him of the trouble in the bazaar. She was calm enough now to do it sensibly.

  She wandered over to the far wall where a map of Rajasthan spun its colours in the bright light, and stood studying it for a while. She couldn’t find what she was looking for. Did she dare ask Mike in his present mood? She dared.

  ‘Where is the Kingdom of Sikaner?’

  Her voice shattered what had grown into a forbidding silence. Mike’s head shot up and he dropped his pen. ‘Why do you want to know?’ His voice was filled with suspicion.

  ‘No real reason. I heard the name today and it was new to me.’

  She tried to sound casual but didn’t entirely succeed. He was looking askance at her, on edge and probably wondering what she meant to do next.

  ‘I liked the sound of it,’ she added lightly.

  She was lying and he knew it. But if she were honest with him, it would spell disaster. She needed to keep Mike ignorant if her plans were to have any chance of success. It was better she left now. She’d never been adept at game playing and the longer she stayed, the more likely it was that she would blurt out what was in her mind. There was no hope for it; she would have to wait until evening before she saw Grayson.

  When she said as much, Mike agreed a little too quickly. ‘I’ll see you back in Tamarind Drive,’ he said, his voice oddly flat.

  ‘Let’s hope it isn’t curried chicken again.’ She was trying to lighten the mood, but his sole response was a brusque nod.

  CHAPTER 11

  Grayson came in halfway through the evening. Ahmed had left them a cold meal and Daisy had put hers aside, preferring to wait rather than eat with a glum Mike. She saw the bandaged wrist straight away.

  ‘Dr Lane hasn’t lost his skill,’ Grayson said. He was smiling, despite the fatigue that shadowed his face. ‘A pretty good job, don’t you think?’

  ‘It’s good enough, but not for driving any distance.’ She felt an urge to put her arms around him and keep him safe.

  ‘Whether it is or not, it will have to do.’

  He skimmed his topi across the room to land perfectly on one of the curling branches of the coat stand. It was pointless to remonstrate, she thought. When he’d made a decision, he was the most stubborn man on earth. Instead, she walked over to the table. ‘I’m starving and you must be too. Come and eat.’

  He took a seat opposite her and lifted the top plate. Curried eggs sat on a large bed of salad with a basket of spiced crusty bread waiting to one side. ‘Hey, this looks good. Is it all for us?’

  ‘Mike has already eaten. I think he’s reading in his room. ‘

  Grayson nodded. ‘I’ll go and see him later. I need to hand over several keys.’

  ‘So you really are going tomorrow?’ Not that she’d had any doubts.

  ‘I must, despite a few bad
moments at the wheel. I have to admit the wrist hurt like hell this morning, but thanks to the doc, it’s now more or less stable.’

  ‘How is Dr Lane?’

  ‘Looking a little older, but then aren’t we all? I was lucky to catch him—the hospital is closing next week for good.’

  ‘I’m surprised he’s still there.’

  ‘He seems just as surprised. He expected to leave months ago. This last year there have been huge changes, of course. I don’t know what will happen to the cantonment—the site is enormous. But virtually all the soldiers have left and most of the officers too. The colonel still seems to be knocking around but not for much longer. I think the Foresters have a berth reserved on the next P&O.’

  ‘Where will the doctor go?’

  ‘I don’t know. I don’t think he knows. There’s nowhere else he calls home.’

  ‘Poor Dr Lane. I can’t imagine him living anywhere else but India.’ It didn’t matter who you were, she thought, the new dispensation had turned lives upside down.

  Grayson poured two glasses of juice and handed her one. ‘Here try this. It’s pomegranate. Ahmed’s speciality.’

  ‘I expect the doctor counselled you against driving,’ she said, ‘but you’re going to disobey him.’

  ‘I am. But don’t despair. I know better now where I’m going. I won’t have to blunder around, driving miles out of my way and getting nowhere.’

  Daisy stopped eating, half a curried egg speared on her fork. ‘You’ve found out where Javinder was headed?’ She was amazed. The mystery had seemed insoluble.

  ‘I’ve found out where he intended to go—not quite the same thing. He may never have got there. He could have branched off at any point. But at least it gives me somewhere to start. If he never arrived, I’ll find out. Then I can probably pick up his trail by asking around—working backwards, as it were.’

  ‘But how—’

  ‘Good old Dr Lane again. He sends his best wishes by the way. He was delighted when I told him you’d qualified as a nurse and become a sister no less. If you’ve got time while I’m away, you might want to call and say hello. I’m sure he’d love to hear about your time at Bart’s.’

  She had been busy weaving very different plans and for a moment, the suggestion that she visit the hospital distracted her. But only for a moment. Grayson’s news could be of the utmost importance.

  ‘What did Dr Lane tell you?’ She tried to keep her voice unconcerned.

  ‘Apparently Javinder went to him for a check-up before he set off travelling. He told the doctor he was heading north—to a small, princely state.’

  ‘How strange.’ Grayson’s eyebrows formed a question mark. ‘It’s just that the north of Rajasthan keeps being mentioned,’ she explained. ‘And small princely states keep appearing too.’

  ‘And when did they appear to you today? You’ve been playing detective again, and after I told you to walk away.’

  His face had clouded and she tried to mollify him. ‘I did listen to what you said—honestly.’

  ‘But then went your own way in any case,’ he said roughly.

  ‘It was worth it though. I made a crucial discovery too. The Ranas aren’t the Ranas.’

  He pushed his plate away in an exasperated gesture and she hurried on. ‘Karan Rana changed his identity when he ran away from home. He joined the Indian Army under a false name. His real name was Verghese and his family came from a princely state in the north of the region. Well, they still do. It must be Anish’s grandfather who is the ruler there. He’s a rajah, I think.’

  Grayson’s frown deepened. He was expecting something bad, she could see, something he wouldn’t like one bit. ‘And why is this important?’ He was still trying to fend off the inevitable.

  ‘I know where the family home is. Exactly where it is. You said I’d never find it,’ she reminded him.

  ‘And where is it?’

  ‘Where was Javinder bound?’ she parried.

  He scraped back his chair in a gesture of impatience. ‘I doubt you’d recognise the name.’

  ‘Tell me.’

  He groaned. ‘It’s a small state called Sikaner.’

  ‘Bullseye!’

  At this shout of joy, his deep blue eyes clouded. He had half risen, but now sank back onto the chair. ‘Let me guess. Sikaner just happens to be where the Verghese family home is situated.’

  ‘Right first time.’ She couldn’t quite keep the crowing from her voice.

  ‘And so …’

  ‘And so when you leave tomorrow, I’m coming with you.’

  ‘That’s one thing you won’t be doing.’ Several minutes had passed before he spoke. It had taken him time to digest what she was telling him.

  She got up and marched around the table to stand at his elbow. ‘And why not?’

  He looked up at her, genuinely perplexed. This identity business had gone beyond obsession, he thought. ‘You’re not seriously suggesting you come with me? To the back of beyond through God knows what dangerous territory—and for what precisely?’

  She didn’t move an inch and he could feel the warmth of her body very close. It was disturbing but it wouldn’t change his mind.

  ‘Why ask the question when you know the answer?’ Her voice was unfaltering.

  He slewed round in his seat. ‘For once, Daisy, think about this rationally. What possible clue could there be, even if we were to find the Ranas, or whatever their name is?’

  ‘But that’s the nature of clues, isn’t it? You don’t know what they look like until you see them. I would know what I was looking for when I saw it. I shouldn’t have to tell you that, you’re an intelligence officer.’

  It was said in a teasing tone but he knew very well it masked an iron determination. He was equally determined.

  ‘I’m glad you can joke about it,’ he said easily, ‘but consider. Anish’s father died in the First World War. By my reckoning, that’s at least thirty years ago. What of his could have survived that length of time?’

  She shook her head in silent disagreement and he went on, trying to reason with her. ‘Let’s say for argument’s sake that some of Karan’s possessions did remain intact, why would they have found their way back to his father’s house? And if just possibly they had, why would his father keep anything? The boy abandoned his home, abandoned his name and his inheritance. Once he left, his father never saw him again. The old man might have discovered his son’s new identity, probably did as you say he wanted to adopt the child Karan left behind, but that offer was rejected, wasn’t it? So he had nothing of his son. Karan had ceased to exist for him—like Parvati for her brother. Why then would he keep anything of his, if there had been anything to keep in the first place?’

  ‘People do,’ she said stubbornly. ‘People do keep things. He’s an old man and you can’t say how he’d behave. It may be that he felt betrayed, let down, but he may also have grieved at Karan’s death and part of that grieving may have been to treasure what he had left of his son. Particularly when it became clear that he’d never know his grandson.’

  She was unyielding and he began to despair that he would ever make her see sense. But he must keep trying. ‘So the old man retains a few keepsakes to remind him of his son. But how likely is it that any of them relate to Karan’s time in Brighton? And even if they did, how likely is it that they would refer to your mother?’

  He stood up as he spoke, and took her firmly by the shoulders, trying to impress on her the futility of the quest. ‘Think about it. Is he likely to have written home with hospital tittle-tattle? Nurse Driscoll is walking out with Joe Bloggs, or Nurse Driscoll is sweet on Tom Smith?’

  ‘It wouldn’t be Joe Bloggs though, would it, and that’s why I think he may have mentioned it in his letters home.’

  He could feel his face going blank. He had lost her.

  ‘Have you noticed the colour of my skin, Grayson?’ she went on.

  Of course, he had noticed. It was quite, quite beautiful—a light olive
that looked as though it had been spread with cream.

  ‘And my hair,’ she continued. ‘So dark it could almost be black. My mother’s photograph shows her as an English rose, so where did my colouring come from? Another Englishman? Somehow I don’t think so. I believe my father was Indian.’

  He felt his jaw slacken. The thought had never occurred to him.

  ‘Do you see now?’ she asked triumphantly. ‘If my mother had an affair with an Indian soldier, Karan Rana would have taken notice. He would have written about it because it was so out of the ordinary. It was shocking, in fact. Even today it would be shocking, but at the time it would have been an enormous transgression.’

  He let his hands drop from her shoulders and walked towards the open door. The veranda and the fresh night air beckoned to him. He needed to clear his head, needed to get some purchase on reality. He was a long way from accepting the leap of faith Daisy had just made. Then he saw her face, drawn and uncertain, and realised with a shock that she’d interpreted his going as rejection. She must be fearful that her supposed parentage would make a difference to the way he thought of her. He walked back.

  ‘There’s no way you can be certain,’ he insisted. ‘You could just as easily be the daughter of Joe Bloggs. The English are a mongrel race and not everyone is an English rose. There are plenty with a skin that matches yours.’

  She shook her head in denial and he tried to keep the exasperation from his voice. ‘That’s an inconvenient fact, isn’t it? It doesn’t fit the fantasy you’ve weaved around yourself. It’s easier than accepting you’ll never know your father. And what difference would it make to you if you found a name lurking deep in Sikaner? What would that tell you about your mother? That she had an affair, conceived you and died two years later. Her history would remain the same.’

  ‘Now you’re just being brutal.’

  He could see the tears ready to spill. She pushed past him and marched through the door and out onto the veranda. In a few seconds, he’d followed. It was probably the wrong thing to do, but he couldn’t leave her this unhappy.