A Book In A Month - Chapter 8

After so much effort it was hard to admit that there was no Natasha, but try as they might, they could not avoid the obvious truth. John has been quite firm on the matter. There was plenty of mystery in Johns' life, he had said, without trying to invent a load more. Somehow, it did not matter too much as the life that Simon had led in the colonies was fascinating and largely uncharted territory to the two of them. They had discussed it at length, the photos in the tins were now all recorded, Natasha was nothing to do with the family and they would proceed with their research by dividing up the two main areas of Simons' life between them. Clara had decided to trace the working life of Simon as John followed, what he now firmly believed to be, Simons' journeys around India. He was going to use his new map and his old bird book as his tools. He was looking forward to the prospect. This was a job he could do at his dining table, coffee and biscuits to hand, with no need to grapple with computers.

One evening Clara rushed in to her fathers' flat waiving a letter at him. An archivist for the tobacco company that Simon worked for had agreed to seek out Simons' records and show them to Clara.

'I'm going next week,' she trilled as he read the letter. 'Lets hope it backs up your route on the map.' She looked at the table on which the map was fully opened. John had drawn dots with dates beside them and there were lines radiating out from Delhi to all parts of the map. It was not an easy task. First he had written down each place and its' date in a note book. Then he had arranged them into date order. Finally he had transferred them onto the the map, tracing the line of each journey, and ticking them off in the note book as he went. Some birds had been recorded as seen in more than one place, John duly marked the map with each sighting.

'I'll have this done by tomorrow teatime.' he said. 'Why not take the lot with you when you go and see the woman at the tobacconists. It may be useful.'

'Dad, it's not a tobacconists,' chuckled Clara, 'But your idea of taking the map and notebook with me is a goodun. Thanks.'

They settled into the evening meal routine and over the small amount of washing up, Clara asked John about his and her mother's time in India. John never discussed it much. It was not that there was a hidden problem, or secret. It was more that John did not seem particularly in love with that time in his life, which Clara found a little bit odd as it was where she was born. Surely John should have very strong emotional ties to the place. After all, his first and only child was born there.

As usual he brushed off her enquiry, saying that in his day the man was never present at the birth. In fact, dad often did not see the baby, or mother for several days, because of the precarious nature of childbirth at those times. He and her mother had not stayed long in India. having met and married in the UK, they travelled over to meet her parents, Vida and Simon, to gain their belated blessing on the marriage. It was 1940 when they married, but because of the war, they could not get out to India until the early 1950's. Partition had been tough for Simon and Vida, who stayed throughout the upheavals, as India redefined itself. Once there, John was not too keen on the place, finding it an assault on the senses. Violet found her parents insistence on treating her like a child, hateful. She used to insist that she was forced to grow up early, having spent time in a boarding school, where she had to fend for herself and later in a London flat. It had been her choice to stay on and live in London once her education had ended, but that was partly due to her parents detached parenting. She never felt close to them. She always said that they never appeared to be close to each other, but, John had added, in those days couples never showed outward displays of emotion. He and Violet visited every couple of years, staying for a few weeks and then taking the long boat journey back home again. Every visit brought the same questions about babies, where were they, when were they planning to start their family and eventually, comments along the lines of why are you are both leaving it so late? Simon and Vida retired and had no grand children to entice them back to England; no grand children to love and help to care for, so they held out in India. By the time Clara arrived they were set in their ways and did not want to come 'home', preferring to end their days in the newly emerging, desperately poor, Republic of India.

The discourse was brief, and devoid of passion. More a statement than a story. Some how, Clara felt she was getting nothing out of her father other than direct answers to direct questions. She caught sight of herself, reflected in glass of the kitchen window. She looked tired, which was not too surprising really, but also, older. Could she have aged noticeably over the last two or three weeks, or perhaps, it was last night. Yes, she suspected her night out had taken its' toll on her normally fresh look. Clara reached across the work surface and closed the curtains.

'Dad,' John looked up at her, 'How did I come to be born in India. I mean, it's not the safest place to be born, is it? You know, the lack of hygiene and technology in those days. Wasn't that a big risk? We might not have survived.'

'It was your mum's idea. I can't speak for her, but looking back, I can see it looks a bit fool hardy now. But, there you are, what can I say? It was the right thing for us at the time.' John looked away as Clara adjusted the curtains so that they hung neatly.

'But I was born in 72. The place was a seething mass of disease and starvation. How could you allow mum to go there in her state? It was fool hardy.' Clara was impassioned. It had little effect on on John who replied very simply, 'It's what we wanted at the time. Women get strange ideas in their heads when they're about to become mothers and I suppose that's what happened to her. I went along with it. It's natural for a woman to want to be near her mum at a time like that.'

I'm missing something here, she pondered, but I can't put my finger on it. She wished her mother was still alive, and could add the passion that the tale lacked. She considered the possibility that she was asking her father the wrong questions. The problem was that she really was not sure what it was that she wanted from him. She wandered into the living room and sat down at the table closely followed by John, who began to study the map again.

'Dad, you know the years we think Granny was in the UK with mum, where do you think Grand dad was at that time?' Clara looked at her father. 'Do you think he was at home in India?'

She knew it was a silly question the moment the words fell from her lips, 'How can we know that, we've nothing to go on yet. Maybe when you've seen the tobacconist, we'll be able to fill in some gaps.' John retorted.