LEILA HAD telephoned the news to the Principal. He had passed it on to the staff who had told their classes. Therefore when Sandilands’ car arrived it was mobbed by cheering students. Even timid little girls who had been taught by their parents that ladies never raised their voices screamed with the rest. Everyone looked on this reinstatement of their colleagues as a triumph for right and justice, whereas Sandilands himself saw it simply as a case of authority having the sense to remedy a blunder. All the same, if they could show such enthusiasm for what after all was a fairly small matter how would they react to a matter of importance? Could he imagine them marching with banners through the Old Town? A day or two ago he could not; now he was not so sure.
He noticed that Salim was included in the congratulations and showed no shame. It would be interesting, if an opportunity arose, to try and discover his motives, though probably he did not know himself what they were. This was a country where, not so long ago, the aborigines cut off human heads and decorated their longhouses with them, for religious reasons. The spirits who haunted the jungle would be pleased not only with those who offered them the heads but also with those who, as it were, contributed their heads. Thus propitiation was shared.
Sandilands and the Principal had once made a journey, by river-boat and along leech-infested trails, to visit a kampong where it was said there was a display of heads of Japanese soldiers. The Principal had wanted to see them. It had amazed and perturbed Sandilands that the Principal, so humane a man, should show such persistence to get there and then, when there, exhausted and drenched with sweat, should squint with such satisfaction at the shrunken heads that still, after forty years, were recognisable as Japanese. ‘You can still see the arrogance.’
Margaret Leithbridge and Mr Srinavasan were in the Principal’s office, drinking coffee. A holiday had been declared. There were to be no more classes that day. The rejoicing of the students could be heard in the distance.
‘Well done, Andrew,’ said the Principal.
‘It’s Mrs Azaharri who should get the credit.’
Miss Leithbridge sniffed. ‘You didn’t by any chance see His Highness?’
‘Yes, we did.’
The sniff became a sarcastic snort. ‘What was she wearing? A sari? Showing her bare midriff? I thought so. She’s cunning, that one, and dangerous.’
Mr Srinavasan liked to agree with everyone but he could not help pointing out other people’s illogicalities. ‘In what way is the lady dangerous because she wears the dress of my country? My dear wife also wears a sari. Is she also dangerous?’
Mrs Srinavasan was small, fat, and pock-marked, therefore not likely to entice His Highness or any other man.
Miss Leithbridge could not very well say so. ‘I merely meant,’ she said, ‘that Mrs Azaharri should mind her own business and not meddle in politics.’
‘But is not the welfare of Savu the lady’s business? She was born here, as was her father, and his father before him. She has distant kinship with His Highness, I have been told.’
‘Orang-utans are born here, Mr Srinavasan. Would you say the welfare of Savu is their business too?’
He got to his feet, with dignity. ‘May I say, dear lady, that I consider that an offensive remark.’ He walked out, very upright, so as not to be mistaken for an ape. He was as black as ebony.
‘They’re so stupidly sensitive,’ said Miss Leithbridge, with a sigh of impatience. ‘I wasn’t calling him an orang-utan. He does say silly things, though. Do you remember, Andrew, when he reprimanded you because the Scots had helped the English to colonise India? When I said, teasing him really, that he should have said civilise, not colonise, he got up and walked out of the staffroom, just as he did now. Oh dear. I suppose I’d better go after him and make my peace. I’m always having to do that. I’m invited to his place for lunch. Curry so hot it scorches your tongue. But they’re really a pair of dears.’
When she was gone Sandilands told the Principal about Salim, the suspected spy.
The Principal sighed. ‘What’s happening, Andrew? This was such a peaceful and friendly country just a short time ago.’
‘There are changes all over Asia. Savu was bound to be affected.’
‘Are they to be welcomed, these changes?’
‘Depends on what they are.’
‘This clamour for democracy, I mean. I’ve heard you express doubts.’
‘Because I don’t trust politicians. They’re in it for their own good, though they pretend otherwise. Take Mr Srinavasan’s country. Ruling India must be the most difficult and thankless task on earth. Yet there never seems to be a dearth of contenders. It must be a love of power.’
‘Which we are told corrupts. Yes, I’ve often wondered myself what makes men involve themselves in politics; women too, nowadays. Take Mrs Azaharri. She’s a politician. Would you trust her? What are her motives?’
What indeed? Sandilands said nothing.
‘But in the meantime we should be grateful to her. I shall write and tell her so. But I’m afraid there are more troubles ahead.’
They listened to bursts of cheering.
‘You used to grumble at their docility, Andrew.’
‘Yes. But it will be all right. If change comes it will happen peaceably. They’re that kind of people.’
‘Yes, indeed. So polite. So good-humoured. So patient.’
‘Yet you’re going to leave them.’
‘It’s the climate, Andrew. The heat. I’m too old.’
‘Well, you’re going to where it’s a lot cooler. You’ll live to be a hundred there.’
The Principal closed his eye so as not to let Sandilands see the pain and grief in it. ‘You will have to come and visit me, Andrew, before you go back to Scotland, and stay for a while. There’s an excellent golf course nearby. And you will bring the dauntless Miss Hislop with you.’
Sandilands smiled and nodded, but he was wondering what his friend would say if he replied that it might not be the ‘dauntless’ Miss Hislop who would accompany him, but the ‘dangerous’ Leila Azaharri.