part0015

Ted Baker sat in his office, smoking. He had already finished two packets of Capstans and the fourth cigarette from a fresh pack now drooped between his lips. He was disconsolate and irritable.

The official reports about the happenings at Ooparpet had brought quick results. Fifty Armed Reserve policemen had been rushed there. Another fifty had come to Nilambur in a Black Maria, and their tents occupied the large compound of the Police Station.

He thanked God Choudri had been present when the shooting had taken place. The Collector had been injured himself, had he not? Then, why should any further questions be asked about the damned incident? Was his senior not there to explain? Or was it because he was a Britisher— whereas Choudri was an Indian? Did it make any difference? Would the Congress Party try to make capital out of that?

Damn it all, if the police had not opened fire when they did all of them would have been murdered. He would have been the only white man killed to about twenty-five Indians including the Magistrate, the doctor, and the police squad. Did the silly buggers think of that?

Ted felt he needed someone to chat to at that moment to get the load off his mind. If only Robbie had been here. He could not help smiling to himself as he imagined the sort of reply the old man would have given him.

"Only hit five of 'em, my boy? Bloody poor shooting, I call it! I would've emptied my revolver into the crowd. At least a round dozen of the bastards should have been laid out".

Poor old Robbie. He loved to appear tough. Inside, Ted knew him better; sentimental, helpful, and very very human.

Baker climbed to his feet and donned the leather belt accommodating the holster in which reposed his loaded revolver. Due to the state of furore throughout the country, all police officers had been ordered to carry arms. An attack might come at any time and from any place. Ramming his khaki topee on his head, he strode out of the office to his car, parked under the shade of a nearby peepul tree, climbed in, and pressed the self-starter. The engine roared to life and in a cloud of dust he drove through the wide gate pillars of the station compound on to the yet more dusty road.

It was a long distance to Rob Roy Estate but he would find pleasant company awaiting him there. He glanced at his watch and saw the time was just 8:45. Perhaps John would be out on the plantation and Ruth would be alone. In which case......

Ted pressed a little harder on the accelerator and the Buick responded to his urging like some living thing that understood his innermost want—a want he was afraid to admit even to himself.

Ruth Greystone was delighted when she recognized the Buick. John had gone out as usual to supervise the coolies and she was alone.

Ted's mind was still in confusion when he saw her standing outside the front door.

"Hello, Ted. It's nice to see you", she greeted.

"Morning Ruth", he returned, stepping out of the car and slamming the door, "is John home?"

"No. He's out on the plantation. Do come in".

This time she led him past the verandah, into the cool recesses of the drawing room. "Sit there, on that sofa. I shall join you as soon as I've mixed the drinks".

"Make mine a whisky please. I need one in the terrible mood I'm in at this moment".

"What's wrong?" she queried, looking down at him, her dark eyes watching his face. "Any bad news?"

"Get that drink please, and I'll tell you all about it".

She served Ted and sat down beside him, resting her tumbler on her knee. He thought she looked very attractive in the pink-flowered mercerised cotton frock she was wearing.

"Actually I'm browned off and came here to have a chat with you and John. As you know, you're the only English people living near Nilambur, and this is an occasion when I need the company of my own kind.

"But let me begin at the beginning", and Ted recounted the recent events at Ooparpet.

"How very dreadful!" exclaimed Ruth when he had finished, "we heard something about it. Fancy killing those five policemen! The culprits deserve what they got".

"But most likely the people we shot had nothing to do with the murder", Ted went on. "They just happened to be standing in front. Information gained indicates that the incident had been worked up by two unknown men who stirred the people into violence and then vanished".

"Haven't you been able to find out more about them?"

"We've been given a sketchy description of the blighters. The car they travelled in had a Calicut number plate, but nobody seems to remember the numerals.

"As a matter of fact", Ted continued, "news of the riot will spread all over and we may expect trouble anywhere now. I hope John has no difficulty with his labourers. The authorities feel the same way, as they have sent down a hundred armed policemen. Needless to say, the brass hats are harassing me with countless questions while I make repeated reports about what happened".

Ruth was silent for a little while. "Poor Ted", she soliloquised, speaking almost to herself; and then, looking up and addressing him, she added, "Well, don't let it worry you unduly. It's a pity a nice boy like you is not back in England instead of being out here, in this wretched country, in danger of your life. I for one wish I had never set foot here".

They were both silent for a while. Ted looked at his boots, his forehead puckered in thought; while Ruth gazed at him, searching his face with her eyes.

Then she broke the silence. "I have a brilliant idea. Take me for a drive, Ted. It will clear away the cobwebs and freshen us both up while helping to get your mind off this nasty subject".

"Certainly", he responded, "where would you like to go?"

"Oh, just anywhere, if only to get out for a bit". They rose together, walked down the verandah steps and, with Ruth sitting next to him he drove the Buick down the road he had just travelled.

Three miles along this road was a branch track leading north. Seven miles further this terminated at the top of a flattish hill. From that spot a beautiful view was obtainable of the surrounding country, with mountain ranges to the north and jungle-clad hills and dales all around.

Ted stopped the car under a large ficus tree and the two of them alighted. It was a deserted spot as few travelers came this way.

He offered Ruth a cigarette and lit it for her. Then they sauntered to where half-a-dozen low trees at the upper edge of a descending shola invited more seclusion and cool shade from the scorching rays of the sun that was blazing in a cloudless sky.

"Still no signs of the blessed monsoon", Ruth grumbled as she seated herself on the grass, motioning Ted to sit beside her, "that's what John says every morning as he studies the heavens before setting out. I wonder what it'll be like when it comes. I've heard so much about the monsoon that I'm dreading to experience it".

"I don't expect conditions will be as bad as they are painted", Ted laughed.

"Fancy you and me together", Ruth murmured, "an English boy and girl in this god-forsaken land". She looked up at him quizzically.

"As I've told you, I rather like India", he replied after some moments, "if only it were not for my police duties, particularly at a time like the present, I think I could be very happy here".

"Can't say I agree with you, one bit. I miss England tremendously. John is absolutely no comfort in that respect. Except for being English by birth, he is perfectly at home here; while I—I feel so lonely and forgotten".

She glanced at him longingly, pensively. It was the age-old look of the female, silent and enticing, obviously soliciting the sympathies of a protector.

Ted felt that gaze and removed his helmet to hide his confusion. He laid it on the grass and turned to face Ruth. How tantalising she appeared with her full, red lips, pale face and dark eyes, her black hair tied in the accustomed pony-tail style she favoured. So slim —so very much the woman. The scent she used— 'Evening in Paris'—was wafted to his nostrils.

Ted understood what she wanted at this moment; and realised, with a shock, that he had come there in the secret hope of giving it. He bent and pressed his lips down on hers, and as he entwined his arms about her willing body, her's in turn clung to him, one soft hand gently, temptingly smoothing the ruffled hair over his fevered temples, her mouth wet and half-opened with desire.

Ted breathed hard as longing welled within him and saw response in Ruth's glazing, hungry eyes. He crushed her to him in a paroxysm of passion, and wrapped together they sank to the grass. She felt his questing hand slide under her jumper and his fingers cup her breast. Then his palm squeezed it tightly.

"Oh Ted!" she gasped, "you're hurting me".

But he was now pulling her jumper to her neck. She squirmed on to her back and pretended to close her knees as he released the hooks of her skirt and wrenched it down over her feet. Then he fell upon her, forcing her knees apart, his fingers between her thighs. Ruth's legs opened to receive him and she arched herself upwards in ecstasy.

In gasps, she urged him, "Go on; go on".

The natural verdure hid the scene as the rhythm of his passion increased in tempo to its eventual climax. There they lay, spent, in each other's arms till time, renewing the passions within, once again aroused them to the frenzies of love.

An hour dragged by. They got up then, exhausted but with a sense of having fully satisfied the fires of their mutual desires.