and well out of view of the British community.
As soon as she entered the lanes, she was struck by the intangible and rich odours of the place – the smell of humanity, sweet and sour, of dust and refuse and boiling ghee. Surprised stares were thrown her way, but they were not unfriendly, and she made her way slowly through the throng of men and veiled women, overloaded donkeys and handcarts bringing cherries, peaches and mulberries to the market.
She was intrigued by everything she saw around her. Shops on either side of the street opened directly onto it, with men sitting cross-legged on the floor while they worked at their crafts. She was aware of being watched by families living above and when she smiled up at the women and children standing on their balconies, they called down a greeting. At least, it sounded to her like a greeting.
She admired the rolls of fabrics in the silk merchant’s shop, as well as a display of the finest of woollen shawls woven with paisley motifs in the next one.
A dentist, flanked by an audience, performed his work on a patient sitting on a chair in his doorway, while a few yards away, a barber was shaving a customer out on the street. A pile of jewel-coloured carpets caught her eye, and she paused to marvel at the speed of the grainmerchant’s fingers as they flew to and fro, clicking the beads of his abacus as he sat crosslegged on the floor of his shop.
A herd of goats trotting down the narrow road forced her to step aside quickly, and around the next corner she stopped at the sight of the familiar chestnut horse standing outside a woodcarver’s workshop on the opposite side of the lane. A lad held its reins while the rider was talking with the crafstsman inside.
From this position, Victoria had her first clear view of the tall Englishman’s features. Whenever she’d seen him riding past the house, she’d always considered his expression to be somewhat forbidding, but now his sun-tanned face appeared to be – if not handsome – at least good-looking, despite the thin white scar running down one cheek. He looked younger, as well. And that was especially so as he flashed a wide smile when the toymaker brought out a brightly decorated wooden elephant standing well over eighteen inches high. She found herself smiling, too, when she saw the craftsman position a gold-painted howdah on the back of the toy. The Englishman picked up two small wooden figures to sit in it, and then a mahout to place astride the elephant’s neck.
When the Englishman pulled the toy across the floor, she noted how cleverly the trunk had been made to sway from side to side as the wheels turned. What child wouldn’t be delighted with such a toy? She could just imagine how excited Emily’s little boys would be if she arrived home with a gift like that for them.
The man gave a boyish laugh, ran the toy several times again up and down the small floor of the workshop, and then shook the toymaker’s hand.
Victoria stood where she was until the painted elephant had been wrapped in calico and the man had ridden off with it. Then she approached the woodcarver and attempted – with every pantomime gesture she could produce – to tell the craftsman that she wished to buy a toy just like the one he had sold to his last customer.
When the man shook his head repeatedly, she wasn’t sure whether it was because he was unable to comprehend her request, or whether he was refusing to oblige her. Finally, she gave up and retreated in frustration. If only she could speak a few words of Urdu – just a few.
CHAPTER SEVEN
‘Nigel, I’m afraid that I upset Duleep this morning.’
He smiled when she told him during dinner that night about her unescorted visit to the markets and the impressions she brought away. ‘Strange smells, yes, but I found it all quite fascinating – and the people seemed to be friendly.’ She didn’t mention the Englishman she’d seen at the toymaker’s.
He smiled and clicked his tongue
As soon as she entered the lanes, she was struck by the intangible and rich odours of the place – the smell of humanity, sweet and sour, of dust and refuse and boiling ghee. Surprised stares were thrown her way, but they were not unfriendly, and she made her way slowly through the throng of men and veiled women, overloaded donkeys and handcarts bringing cherries, peaches and mulberries to the market.
She was intrigued by everything she saw around her. Shops on either side of the street opened directly onto it, with men sitting cross-legged on the floor while they worked at their crafts. She was aware of being watched by families living above and when she smiled up at the women and children standing on their balconies, they called down a greeting. At least, it sounded to her like a greeting.
She admired the rolls of fabrics in the silk merchant’s shop, as well as a display of the finest of woollen shawls woven with paisley motifs in the next one.
A dentist, flanked by an audience, performed his work on a patient sitting on a chair in his doorway, while a few yards away, a barber was shaving a customer out on the street. A pile of jewel-coloured carpets caught her eye, and she paused to marvel at the speed of the grainmerchant’s fingers as they flew to and fro, clicking the beads of his abacus as he sat crosslegged on the floor of his shop.
A herd of goats trotting down the narrow road forced her to step aside quickly, and around the next corner she stopped at the sight of the familiar chestnut horse standing outside a woodcarver’s workshop on the opposite side of the lane. A lad held its reins while the rider was talking with the crafstsman inside.
From this position, Victoria had her first clear view of the tall Englishman’s features. Whenever she’d seen him riding past the house, she’d always considered his expression to be somewhat forbidding, but now his sun-tanned face appeared to be – if not handsome – at least good-looking, despite the thin white scar running down one cheek. He looked younger, as well. And that was especially so as he flashed a wide smile when the toymaker brought out a brightly decorated wooden elephant standing well over eighteen inches high. She found herself smiling, too, when she saw the craftsman position a gold-painted howdah on the back of the toy. The Englishman picked up two small wooden figures to sit in it, and then a mahout to place astride the elephant’s neck.
When the Englishman pulled the toy across the floor, she noted how cleverly the trunk had been made to sway from side to side as the wheels turned. What child wouldn’t be delighted with such a toy? She could just imagine how excited Emily’s little boys would be if she arrived home with a gift like that for them.
The man gave a boyish laugh, ran the toy several times again up and down the small floor of the workshop, and then shook the toymaker’s hand.
Victoria stood where she was until the painted elephant had been wrapped in calico and the man had ridden off with it. Then she approached the woodcarver and attempted – with every pantomime gesture she could produce – to tell the craftsman that she wished to buy a toy just like the one he had sold to his last customer.
When the man shook his head repeatedly, she wasn’t sure whether it was because he was unable to comprehend her request, or whether he was refusing to oblige her. Finally, she gave up and retreated in frustration. If only she could speak a few words of Urdu – just a few.
CHAPTER SEVEN
‘Nigel, I’m afraid that I upset Duleep this morning.’
He smiled when she told him during dinner that night about her unescorted visit to the markets and the impressions she brought away. ‘Strange smells, yes, but I found it all quite fascinating – and the people seemed to be friendly.’ She didn’t mention the Englishman she’d seen at the toymaker’s.
He smiled and clicked his tongue
Similar Books
