The bookshelves of the Grants’ living room were full of red leather volumes tooled in gold - and many of them were Kipling.
The Colonel leaned forward, took in the title, leaned back. He said, ‘A good lad, Kipling. Though he’s out of favour now.’
I haven’t read him before, sir.’
‘I’d be interested to hear what you make of it. Your generation … you see things differently.’
Outside this bungalow, beyond the tree-shaded garden, on the dusty road, groups of Indians went past in their many colours.
‘What’s that bird, sir?’
‘Crows. Indian crows. Not like ours, are they?’
‘They sound as if they’ve got sore throats. Like mine.’
The Colonel laughed: clearly, he was relieved to laugh. James’s pale intensity disturbed him.
‘We’ve got all kinds of germs. It’s the dust. Filthy. But you’ll get immune, with luck,’
‘And do you get immune to the heat, sir?’
The Colonel looked at the patches of dressing on James’s arms and legs, below the uniform shorts; he knew there were more dressings, where they were invisible. The redness on James’s neck was prickly heat. ‘No, you don’t get used to that, I’m afraid.’ A pause. ‘I’m afraid my wife takes it hard, after all these years. She spends as much time as she can in the hills but at the moment she wants to do her bit, so she’s here, and she’s not made for it. You must have noticed.’
‘Yes, I did.’
‘And where are your comrades?’
‘They’re exploring the town.’
‘Poor lads, not much for them to do.’
‘We’re all pleased to be off the ship, sir.’
‘Yes, I heard you had a bad time.’
He got up, nodded, and went off. But he took to dropping in to join James on the verandah, for chats that were brief, but as James saw, not without purpose.
‘Didn’t they offer you a commission?’
‘Yes, I turned it down. Now, I wonder why?’
‘You might have had things a bit easier.’
‘I thought so on the troopship, yes.’
Yes:
And another time, looking at the red volume on James’s knee.
The tumult and the shouting dies,
The Captains - and the Kings depart.
‘They don’t seem to be departing, sir. Far front it..’
‘That’s what they want us to do. The Indians. Depart. You might have noticed.’
James had now been in India for a week and he had not done more than glance at a newspaper.
‘Riots.’ Free India. “India for the lndians. “The British Tyranny.’
Months of socialist indoctrination, which of course had to include ‘Free India’, had slid off James. He thought, Well, India for the Indians: that makes sense.
‘The lot before you. The previous regiment. They’ve gone to Burma.’
‘Yes, we know.’
‘Before they left they were suppressing riots in … pretty close to here. They put down quite a nasty spot of bother. What do you think about that?’
James thought that if you were a soldier you did what you were told, bad luck.
‘Mine is not to reason why, sir.’
The Colonel laughed. ‘Very wise!’
‘Are we going to Burma, sir?’ James dared.
‘I don’t know. No, I really don’t.’
‘And if you did you wouldn’t tell me.’
‘And if I did I couldn’t tell you. But as you know, the Japs are threatening to invade India and free it from our tyranny. And they’re getting closer all the time.’
‘Yes, I suppose so.’
‘And some troops will be kept here, in case of that.’
