woman could have been recruited, surely? To make her an enemy was not only foolish, but exposes us all to the utmost danger.’
Brother Alex found it hard to hide his irritation. The wretched little man had too much influence. He was losing the battle. He’d been stupid even to mention Sarah to Hilda and Cabot, whose account of the story in the The Times of India had already alienated the majority of the group.
It was time to stop trying to placate them and start fighting back.
‘Why? She made me lose my temper, that’s why,’ he said.
‘She was the usual muck-raking hack who was only interested in stabbing the notorious Alex Whitbread in the back. But she was deprived of the chance. As it happened, we were leaving the next day. We’ll hear no more from her, mark my words.’
‘But...’
‘Thank you, Brother Shunryu,’ said Mother Hilda. ‘I think we have heard enough. Brother Alex, the time has come to...’
‘I haven’t finished what I have to say!’
Hilda clearly wasn’t used to being interrupted. She looked at Alex over the top of her glasses, as if he were an uppity student challenging her views on Wittgenstein. ‘Very well.
Continue.’
Alex glanced round the room, looking for his allies. There was Brother Ali from Pakistan, and Igor and... but only Dafydd would catch his eye, and he was frowning. ‘I do not recognise the authority of this kangaroo court. I have made quite clear in the past my belief that the strategy of the present leadership is not assertive enough. Mother Hilda has abrogated any right to...’
But he could not continue. The murmur of dissent had become a growl, and the growl a clamour that drowned his words. He looked towards Dafydd once more, only to see a little shake of the head, before he too dropped his eyes.
‘The sense of the meeting is overwhelmingly apparent,’ said Hilda. ‘Please lock the door, Will.’
Alex’s aggressive air vanished. ‘No! Please, no! I beg you!’
Mother Hilda stood up. She looked at him with compassion in her eyes. But then she shook her head.
‘It’s too late,’ she said.
At first, as she travelled through the leafy suburb where the ashram was situated, Sarah rather enjoyed sitting in her bicycle rickshaw, playing at being a memsahib from the days of the Raj, when merely to be British was to be one up on the world. This was the life!
But when she found herself in the middle of Bombay’s rush-hour - which included double-decker buses that seemed twice the size of London’s, vans and lorries of every description, a multitude of out-of-date cars, three-wheeled taxis, and even an elephant loaded with greenery, all hooting at once (except the elephant, who kept himself to himself) and making for the same gap in the traffic - she began to have second thoughts. And the sight of the pitifully skinny legs in front of her losing their struggle to pedal her up a mildly steep hill finally decided her.
She paid the owner of the legs the six rupees he had quoted, much to his delight, and walked the rest of the way to the docks.
On leaving the ashram that morning, Dieter, at the gate, had recognised her at once, in spite of her attempt to change her face by pulling in her cheeks and adopting a sultry pout.
But, thank goodness, he seemed thoroughly pleased.
‘So she has said yes! I wish you very well with us.’
‘Thanks,’ she’d said, with a quick glance at Helga’s shop, which, to her relief, had an empty window and a firmly closed door.
The critical moment would come when she tried to use the password to get back in, she thought to herself as she arrived at the quayside.
The place was full of ships, of all types and sizes. And quite a number were anchored out in the middle of the big harbour, including, she recognised with a curious pang, a British warship of some sort. Not a destroyer; it was much smaller than that. More a tubby spaniel of the sea than a greyhound. But it was the usual sort of grey and it was flying
Brother Alex found it hard to hide his irritation. The wretched little man had too much influence. He was losing the battle. He’d been stupid even to mention Sarah to Hilda and Cabot, whose account of the story in the The Times of India had already alienated the majority of the group.
It was time to stop trying to placate them and start fighting back.
‘Why? She made me lose my temper, that’s why,’ he said.
‘She was the usual muck-raking hack who was only interested in stabbing the notorious Alex Whitbread in the back. But she was deprived of the chance. As it happened, we were leaving the next day. We’ll hear no more from her, mark my words.’
‘But...’
‘Thank you, Brother Shunryu,’ said Mother Hilda. ‘I think we have heard enough. Brother Alex, the time has come to...’
‘I haven’t finished what I have to say!’
Hilda clearly wasn’t used to being interrupted. She looked at Alex over the top of her glasses, as if he were an uppity student challenging her views on Wittgenstein. ‘Very well.
Continue.’
Alex glanced round the room, looking for his allies. There was Brother Ali from Pakistan, and Igor and... but only Dafydd would catch his eye, and he was frowning. ‘I do not recognise the authority of this kangaroo court. I have made quite clear in the past my belief that the strategy of the present leadership is not assertive enough. Mother Hilda has abrogated any right to...’
But he could not continue. The murmur of dissent had become a growl, and the growl a clamour that drowned his words. He looked towards Dafydd once more, only to see a little shake of the head, before he too dropped his eyes.
‘The sense of the meeting is overwhelmingly apparent,’ said Hilda. ‘Please lock the door, Will.’
Alex’s aggressive air vanished. ‘No! Please, no! I beg you!’
Mother Hilda stood up. She looked at him with compassion in her eyes. But then she shook her head.
‘It’s too late,’ she said.
At first, as she travelled through the leafy suburb where the ashram was situated, Sarah rather enjoyed sitting in her bicycle rickshaw, playing at being a memsahib from the days of the Raj, when merely to be British was to be one up on the world. This was the life!
But when she found herself in the middle of Bombay’s rush-hour - which included double-decker buses that seemed twice the size of London’s, vans and lorries of every description, a multitude of out-of-date cars, three-wheeled taxis, and even an elephant loaded with greenery, all hooting at once (except the elephant, who kept himself to himself) and making for the same gap in the traffic - she began to have second thoughts. And the sight of the pitifully skinny legs in front of her losing their struggle to pedal her up a mildly steep hill finally decided her.
She paid the owner of the legs the six rupees he had quoted, much to his delight, and walked the rest of the way to the docks.
On leaving the ashram that morning, Dieter, at the gate, had recognised her at once, in spite of her attempt to change her face by pulling in her cheeks and adopting a sultry pout.
But, thank goodness, he seemed thoroughly pleased.
‘So she has said yes! I wish you very well with us.’
‘Thanks,’ she’d said, with a quick glance at Helga’s shop, which, to her relief, had an empty window and a firmly closed door.
The critical moment would come when she tried to use the password to get back in, she thought to herself as she arrived at the quayside.
The place was full of ships, of all types and sizes. And quite a number were anchored out in the middle of the big harbour, including, she recognised with a curious pang, a British warship of some sort. Not a destroyer; it was much smaller than that. More a tubby spaniel of the sea than a greyhound. But it was the usual sort of grey and it was flying
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