The Game - Laurie R. King [76]
I used the moment of leisure to question my young companion. “It was a lovely surprise to see you,” I told her. “But I can’t really imagine what you’re doing here.”
The innocent did not hesitate to answer. “I know, Simla’s not much compared to Jaipur or something. But Tommy wanted to see it, and the maharaja isn’t at home until tomorrow. We had thought to go to Khanpur today, or at least go back down today and head for Khanpur tomorrow—what a fantastic train ride, isn’t it? All those tunnels? But then today the coolies wouldn’t work, so we’re here for longer. I’m glad; it gives us a chance to see something of each other. Have you finished? It’s pretty chilly, sitting here.”
We returned our cups, and Sunny tucked her arm into mine as if we’d been friends for years.
“I have to say, it’s absolutely fantabulous of you to have found something that I can do better than you. I’ll bet you planned it out.”
“What on earth do you mean?”
“Oh, Mary, you can do just everything. You know everything, you’ll talk to anyone, you do all these things that just give me the heebie-jeebies, sometimes I feel about six years old around you. But I am so glad you’re coming with us to see Tommy’s maharaja—a genuine maharaja, for gosh sake! I just know that when I stand there in front of him my lips will just freeze up, but with you there it’ll make it easier, sort of following your lead.”
I looked down at her fur-covered head, astounded. Although why should I be? Elaborate fronts were often constructed to conceal doubts and insecurities. I laughed, and said, “Just think, you’ll probably be the first Flapper to reach Khanpur.”
“What a nifty title for a book—The First Flapper in Khanpur. When I write my memoirs, I’ll thank you for the name. Where are we going now?”
“Shall we take a look at the native bazaar?” There would be no chance of stumbling across Holmes; he and Bindra would be long gone, on the first train out of Simla to retrieve the travelling show and make for Khanpur, questioning people about O’Hara all the way.
“Oh, that would be fun! I wanted to go into those shops yesterday when we walked through with Mama, but she took one look at them and said they were too dirty and that we’d probably get robbed.”
“I should think they look worse from the outside than they are.”
“And do you know, it was funny to see you come into the tea shop this morning? We’d just been talking about you yesterday.”
“Oh yes?” I asked, warily.
“Yes, Tommy swore he’d seen a native that looked just like your husband, there in the bazaar, can you imagine? I mean, anyone less like an Indian than him, I can’t picture, and he was squatting down at the side of the road like they do, trying to beg some money off Captain Nesbit.”
“It’s not likely to have been my husband,” I assured her mildly, squelching the alarm I felt at Goodheart’s unexpected perceptiveness, but she burst out laughing at the thought.
“Of course not, silly, it’s just that Tommy was reminded of him, and so we were talking about you a little, telling Captain Nesbit about the voyage out, that’s all. Say, do you think we could find a sari in this bazaar? That one you wore on the ship was posatively dreamy.”
“We’d be more likely to find a sheepskin coat than a silk sari, but we can look.”
We found many things, from a dozen bright, rattly bangles for Sunny’s wrist to an embroidered cap for Tommy’s head, including two sari-lengths of silk for the girl, one bright green with a silver border, the other saffron-yellow with a heavy stripe of darker orange, along with their under-skirts and blouses. Next door lay a shop with a dusty display of necklaces in the window, a place dark and mysterious enough to have belonged to Kim’s Lurgan Sahib; with a squeal, Sunny dived inside.
The shopkeeper was no teacher of spies, but we did make him a happy man. Something about his wares, which were rough to the point of primitive, appealed to the girl from Chicago. And I had to admit, she had a remarkable eye for the