Page 45 of Six Days in Bombay

“Even King George’s coronation couldn’t overshadow it.” The one with the biggest paunch threw his money into the pile.

“Sorry to have missed the folderol. Seems as if the whole of England turned out for the ceremony,” Dr. Stoddard said.

I lost the first hand. And the second. I kept glancing at the doctor to see if he was as nervous as I was. Oh, how I wish hehad told me I would be playing in his stead tonight. These men knew what they were doing. They were practiced at winning. I was a novice. Thoughts of how I’d failed Mira, how I’d failed my mother, how I’d failed to keep my post—everything I’d ever done that amounted to failure—consumed me. Sweat ran down the back of my neck.

“Nurse, would you please get me a glass of water?” The doctor’s voice broke through my private hysteria.

The captain cocked a finger at the steward. “He’ll get it.”

The doctor laughed lightly. “Only Nurse Falstaff knows how I like it. Not too cold. Not too warm.”

“Of course,” I said, rising from the table. I pressed my hand over the wrinkles of my uniform. The men chatted about the recent provincial elections in India and how Nehru would fare as leader of the Indian National Congress while I went to the sideboard to pour water from the pitcher into a glass.

“India will never be able to govern her people without us,” the captain said, puffing on his cigar.

Dr. Stoddard looked amused. “Isn’t that what India was doing before we came on the scene?”

The captain frowned at him. “Doctor, in case you’ve forgotten,‘the sun will never set on the British Empire.’I think every man here knows that.” He looked to the others for confirmation. A few nodded. Others pretended to study their cards.

The doctor let out a small laugh. “It would’ve set a lot sooner if England hadn’t used Indian soldiers to get us through our wars.” The captain, whose cheeks had turned red, glared at Dr. Stoddard, who smiled at him good-naturedly. “But we’re not here for politics. We’re here to play cards. Isn’t that right, old bean?”

I braced myself against the sideboard. My stomach felt queasy. When I felt able to breathe again, I walked back with the water. I offered the glass to Dr. Stoddard. He placed his hands around mine, startling me.

I looked at him. He held my gaze with his unblinking owl eyes.

“As I taught you,” he said softly.

Once again, I felt it. The encouragement of a father teaching his cricket-playing son how to bat. Or coaching his daughter about the perfect tennis serve.

I pulled my chair up to the table. I put the doctor’s money in the kitty and concentrated on the game instead of how inadequate I felt. I looked at my cards. I counted which cards were left. I calculated what each player was holding.

I won that hand. And the next. And every subsequent hand after that. The scattered pile of silver and pound notes now sat in a stack in front of me. I was so absorbed in the game that I didn’t hear the doctor telling the men he was tired and needed to lie down. I thought I felt, rather than heard, a collective sigh of relief.

Dr. Stoddard began scooping up my winnings onto his lap blanket. That’s when I realized the game was over. Or at least my part in it was over.

Dazed, I pulled on his wheelchair and took him out of the smoky room.

“What just happened?” I asked from behind his chair.

“How do you feel?” His voice hid a smile.

“Bloody wonderful, you wanker.” He laughed. So did I.

Itwaswonderful watching the egos of those men deflate one by one. At some point during the game, I’d stopped being petrified of losing the doctor’s money and started being—what?—reckless? Courageous? Impudent? Who cared? I loved it! Was this the kind of chance my mother wanted me to take? Was this how giddy she’d felt the day she met my father and decided to take the risk? Was this the way Mira felt every single day of her life? She would have thought it weak to be fearful of life, hiding in the shadows as I’d done. If she wanted to paint what no one else was painting, she wouldn’t think twice about it. If she wanted to sleep with someone, she didn’t need anyone’s permission.

The doctor pointed to his lap blanket. “This should get you as far as you need to go, my dear.”

I looked at the winnings. It was more money than I’d ever seen! I bit my lip. If only Mum were here to see it! And if she were here, she would tell me it wasn’t fair to lay claim to it all. I felt the same way. “It’s as much your money as mine, Doctor.”

He grinned, wagging a crooked finger at me. “My girl, do not be contrary. You were the champion tonight. Revel in it!”

“Fifty-fifty?”

He shook his head. “Wouldn’t dream of it.” He paused. “Now about your father…” My heart sped up. Had I said something unseemly after a night of too much port and scotch? I was pushing his chair from behind, and I couldn’t see the expression on his face.

“My dear, we Brits have done a lot of damage to your country. I can see you’re paying the price.” He reached behind the chair to pat my hand. Tears sprang to my eyes.

Dearest Mum,

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