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grown up for knees,’ he said grandly, but all the same came over and leant against her.
    â€˜Who taught you?’ she asked, running her fingers through his hair. It felt like silk. She loved the sweet smell of him.
    â€˜Papa of course,’ the boy said proudly. ‘He borrowed a little pony from the army, but now he says I am good enough, so I am going to have one of my very own.’ He pulled away from her and began jumping up and down in his happiness.
    Sangita wondered if she would ever become a real mother, or real wife again.
    It had been more than four by the time Paul’s car spluttered to a stop.
    Paul said, ‘That’s the end of the petrol. What do we do now?’
    The evening air was still and hot but all the same Sangita felt icy cold.
    Paul said. ‘Pity about the picnic. I’m starving and you must be too.’
    But oddly Sangita, who had been so hungry several hours before, did not feel at all hungry any more although they had had no food all day.
    Then new thoughts came to her. ‘I will just never go back to the palace again. I will run away with this golden boy. He and I will go somewhere where the Raja’s men cannot find us.’ She allowed the ludicrous thoughts to rush through her head because otherwise she would have felt so afraid that she would have been unable to bear it.She had to think of something mad, or otherwise her pounding heart might leap from her chest.
    After an hour, during which Paul scrutinised the horizon at ever shorter intervals and he came and sat at Sangita’s side again.
    â€˜I am sorry, Sangita. I really am. Have I got you into trouble?’
    â€˜Yes,’ she said.
    â€˜What will happen to you?’
    She shrugged.
    He put an arm of comfort round her. ‘Look, when we get back I’ll explain everything. I’ll tell your husband it was all my fault. He’s a reasonable man. He’s sure to understand.’
    â€˜I doubt if he will though,’ said Sangita and she started shivering again.
    â€˜I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.’ He looked at her bleakly and did not know what to do.
    â€˜Whatever happens, it’s not your fault,’ Sangita said.
    He looked relieved.
    â€˜It’s no one’s fault so you don’t need to feel guilty,’ she said. His arm was still round her. She wanted to lean against him, to get comfort from his nearness, but resisted the temptation. She started feeling dizzy because of so much worry and because she could feel his heart beating so close to her own.
    â€˜Perhaps, when you get your pony, you could teach me to ride. Do you think you could, Anwar?’ Sangita saw them being brought together through the riding. She and the little boy having intimate moments which the Raja could not share.
    â€˜But you’d have to get a bigger horse, because my pony will be too small for you.’He looked his mother up and down, and laughed. She loved it when he laughed, and thought that he must have inherited the tendency to do so from her, for it certainly had not come from his father.
    â€˜We might have to stay here all night,’ Paul had said.
    It was six o’clock and distant cows and working people had begun to vanish from the fields.
    At seven o’clock the sun started setting. At half past seven, little spots of lights appeared on the horizon as the villagers, home from the fields, lit their oil lamps.
    At a quarter to eight it became quite dark and mosquitoes began to bite Paul and Sangita.
    â€˜We will have to sleep in the car with the hood up. That’s the only thing,’ said Paul.
    Because it was a two-seater, the only way they could lie down was in each other’s arms across the seats. Because of the mosquitoes, Sangita took off her sari and used it to cover both of them.
    She thought she had not gone to sleep at all, but lain awake all night, listening to the in and out even sound of Paul’s sleeping breaths. Hearing the