The Girl from Cobb Street by Merryn Allingham Page A

you.’
    Gerald looked taken aback. ‘Whatever made you think I’d be coming? My work is here, you must see that.’
    ‘And is that so for the other women? They don’t mind leaving their husbands behind?’
    ‘They’re only too delighted to get out of this heat. You should be too. While you’re there, you can think of me slaving away on the burning plains! In any case, I’ll visit when I can, but it’s a two-day journey and I’ll need a block of leave to get there and back.’
    She sat staring ahead, lost in a solitary future. He was watching her closely and an irritated frown furrowed the smoothness of his face. ‘What’s wrong? Why on earth would you not want to go?’
    ‘I’ve only just arrived, Gerald, and we are only just married.’ It shouldn’t be necessary to remind him, she thought.
    ‘I realise that. It’s why I haven’t packed you off immediately. By the time the last group of women leave next week, you’ll have had ample space to recover from the journey.’
    Was he deliberately misreading her concern? Making out that it was the travelling rather than their marriage that was worrying her. She couldn’t be certain, but she was certain she had no wish to be ‘packed off’, no matter how enticing the place. The set look on his face, though, signalled it would be difficult to refuse.
    ‘You’ll try to visit while I’m there?’
    ‘Whenever I can.’ His response mixed relief with cheerfulness. ‘But really you won’t need me. The women get all sorts of things going. Parties, picnics, concerts, amateur dramatics. Even fashion shows. And every Sunday you can wear your best clothes for morning service—the cathedral is always packed—and be certain they’ll stay crisp. The climate is wonderful.’
    ‘So Anish told me.’
    ‘He was right. The scenery is wonderful too. You can see the Himalayas through the clouds and they go on for mile after mile. Great masses of ice and snow almost hanging in the sky. It’s majestic. The gods are supposed to live in the mountains, did you know that? And when you see them for the first time, you’ll believe it.’
    She smiled faintly. He was so enthusiastic and he was concerned for her. He wanted her to be happy and comfortable in her new life and that was reassuring; that was more like the old Gerald. She would do as he wished, she decided, and if she were ever tempted to waver, the thought of escaping an overpowering heat would be sure to persuade her back into line.
    The driver was at the door at five o’clock sharp. She saw the pleat of his turban bend and flutter as he talked with her husband on the veranda. Gerald had warned her not to dress until the last minute and she was glad of the advice. Even though the early evening air was balmy, the warmth still bounced off the ground, hitting legs and body with unbelievable energy. Her entire skin was aflame and once the dress was on, the lightest of silks felt like a hot glove.
    The Jasirapur station had so far been only a word to her but as they drove through what Gerald told her were the civil lines, she had a sense of the power and reach of the administration of which she was now a very small part. Row after row of bungalows spread before them, the homes of civil service personnel, of police and forestry officers, and their families. On the other side of the road, further lines of bungalows stretched into the distance, each whitewashed and red-ochred and separated one from the other by splashes of tired grass. This was the cantonment, her husband told her, the home of the military. Beyond the bungalows, a hotchpotch of interlinked buildings signalled the barracks for the Indian soldiers.
    Daisy glanced across at her husband. He looked splendid in blue and gold, his slim, upright figure admirable in the close-fitting dress uniform. For an instant she was filled with a surge of pure pleasure. It was wonderful to be dressed so prettily, to be sitting beside the man she loved, and to be going into