Coromandel Sea Change by Rumer Godden

Author:Rumer Godden [Godden, Rumer]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9781447206255
Publisher: Pan Macmillan UK

Thursday

When the first beginnings of daylight filtered through the dressing room curtains, Mary still had not slept. Too tired? Too excited? Too dismayed? But she did not feel dismayed, even though she knew the dismay was serious, nor was she tired or excited, only awake and waiting. Waiting for what?

Then it came; the sound of a flute played softly. She flung off the sheet, went to the window and looked behind the curtains. Yes, it was Krishnan standing under the window and with him, in the dim light, she saw the big shape of Birdie.

Krishnan wore no make-up, no garlands, only a clean white tunic and loose trousers, his hair brushed back. As he saw her, he put a finger to his lips, hushing her, then beckoned.

Mary had gone to bed in her slip; now she pulled last night’s dress on, brushed her hair with one of Sir John’s hairbrushes and, taking her sandals, stole out in her bare feet and ran downstairs.

‘Krishnan.’

‘Ssh! Mary, would you, will you, come with me?’

Krishnan seemed suddenly young and – not unhappy – troubled.

‘Come where?’

‘To the temple.’

‘The Dawn Temple?’

‘No, no. There’s a little temple. It’s so hidden in the hills hardly anyone knows it. I call it mine. I’m going there to make my puja.’

‘Puja?’

‘Prayer. Before the voting. I promised my mother.’ He took Mary’s hand, twining his fingers in hers. ‘Perhaps, Mary, thinking of her, I find myself very lonely. Well . . .’ For a moment he was proud again, ‘I have to be lonely but sometimes everyone needs . . .’ It seemed to be difficult for eloquent Krishnan to find words. Then, ‘Mary, will you come with me?’ and, rapidly, ‘Birdie will take us, it’s not far into the hills, as she’s always coming and going no one will notice us. I won’t be long. You’ll be back in bed before anyone is up to see you gone. You— ’

‘Ssh!’ said Mary in her turn. ‘Of course I’ll come.’

Birdie knelt down to let them climb on to the pad Krishnan had fastened on her back; he swung up and reached down a hand to help Mary. ‘Lie down behind me,’ he whispered as he settled himself on the elephant’s neck.

‘I thought no one could drive an elephant except its mahout,’ said Mary as they went along.

‘Perhaps in another time I was a mahout.’

Mary had ridden elephants before, short rides in a howdah but not in this free, ordinary way; she could feel Birdie’s great body through the pad, her shoulders moving, her powerful, comfortable, half-rolling half-swaying gait. Birdie had been well trained: if a branch overhung – this roundabout way to the hills led through patches of jungle – to a command from Krishnan, her trunk came up to break it off in case it hit her passengers. When they came to a swamp she tested the ground with a cautious forefoot before she would venture on it. Presently they began to climb; Mary felt a cooler air and, as she lay, lulled by the rhythmical swaying, she went, at last, to sleep.

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