The Ivory Swing by Janette Turner Hospital Page B

now, it will be known that I have left the estate. I will be sent to Palghat. Shivaraman Nair told my father one more chance only.”
    â€œHow did you leave the estate? When did you put that thing on?”
    â€œI put it on in the forest. This afternoon I walked many kilometres through the far side of the forest beyond my house, the far side of the estate, until I came to the Kottayam Road. I gave a silver nose-ring to a bullock driver and he brought me into the city on his cart.” She paused, thinking back. “It was very exciting. You cannot realize, Juliet, when I am so lonely and bored, how exciting it was. But I did not think enough about the return, I was too eager for the adventure of leaving my prison. I did not think about how long it would take. I cannot walk back through the forest at night.”
    â€œI can’t see any problem. Who will see you in the dark? Just keep low and out of sight as we drive past the Nair house. You can take that off inside our house and walk home.”
    â€œAhh, you do not know how far talking is going here. The taxi driver will tell all his passengers, all the men in the toddy houses at Shasta Junction. Shivaraman Nair will hear. He will ask you: Where is the strange Muslim woman who visited you but did not leave? It will be found out.”
    â€œThen I will introduce you as we pass the house. My Muslim friend from the far North”
    â€œNo, no, no! It will be seen that this friend does not leave your house again. Oh it is impossible. I have been so stupid. I will be sent to Palghat.”
    â€œNo. Wait. I have an idea. Say nothing at all.”
    The taxi slowed at the gates of the Nair estate. Shivaraman Nair was visible in the glow of the oil flare, sitting on his porch enjoying the cool of evening, missing nothing. He moved with lordly graciousness to greet the taxi while the driver opened the iron gates. He frowned sternly at Prabhakaran. He did not approve of servants riding in taxis. They should be sent on the bus or on foot.
    â€œ Namaskaram. I have brought a friend who is the daughter of a Pakistani merchant,” Juliet invented glibly. “We met when she was travelling in the West with her father. They are visiting very briefly They leave tonight on the plane for Karachi.”
    â€œMost welcome, most welcome,” said Shivaraman Nair excitedly. “So many peoples from all over the world are visiting my beautiful house. This is the first time we are having a Pakistani lady. Most welcome.”
    The robed figure inclined its head courteously.
    The taxi proceeded through the coconut grove. At the entrance to their house, Juliet told the driver to wait. In a short time he would be required to take the Muslim lady to the airport. Juliet would pay him now, in advance, for the waiting and the whole trip.
    Some time later the veiled lady entered the car silently and was driven to the airport. She quailed a little before the rush of public interest as she alighted, but made her way to the ladies’ lavatory and locked herself into one of the booths.
    What a wild goose chase, Juliet thought, gingerly placing her feet on the two cement footprints above the black and fearfulsmelling hole of the latrine. How long will I have to stay in here before the room empties of the curious, before I can emerge as a Westerner, creating my own different current of excitement? And the speculation will go on forever. Where did the strange swaddled woman go? Why was she never seen again? Eventually Shivaraman Nair will hear of it. But perhaps by the time he asks me about it I can laugh it off as the chatter of airport servants and taxi drivers. Mere rumour.
    In the meantime, she thought with pleasure, I feel alive again. Like a kid on an adventure.
    She bent over and turned on the little tap that projected from the wall six inches above the floor. This and a small plastic pitcher beneath it were the only aids to hygiene. She filled the pitcher and let its water