CHAPTER TWO

Seven months later

"Mummy, are we there yet?"

"It won't be long now, sweetie. Please try to be patient."

Aislinn Callaghan watched as her six-year-old daughter pressed her forehead against the window once more.

"But I want to be there now," she said in a soft, high-pitched voice.

"Gillian," Aislinn said to her daughter, "you're just going to have to wait. Here, why don't you rest for awhile. I'll wake you when we get there. How does that sound?"

But Gillian was not satisfied. "I don't want to rest," she protested, failing to force back a long yawn. "I'm not tired."

"Nice try," Aislinn said smiling. "Come here and lie on the seat. You can rest your head on me."

Gillian reluctantly obeyed, and, despite her protests, soon fell into a light sleep.

Aislinn, however, turned her head towards a window on her left. She did not see much on the other side, for she had already stared at practically the same picture for a few hours. Everywhere around them, for miles and miles, was a flat desert. Occasionally they would pass by a town, or a larger city, but not much else.

Aislinn sighed. She missed the large, green, rolling hills of her native country, Ireland. She missed the unique, fresh smell of the air after a large rain. Here in India, or at least this part of India, it was all flat and rain was scarce.

In fact, the only reason why she was here was because of her husband, Damon Callaghan, who had been sent to Rudrakot two months previously. When she asked him why, he simply told her that he was needed to help "keep things in order". He had insisted that she stay in Ireland, for there was no great advantages for her in India. But Aislinn's will was stronger, and she insisted that the family must be kept together. In the end, Damon agreed that, since he did not have the money for all of them to go at once, he would depart for India alone and then send Aislinn and Gillian their share for the passage.

So Aislinn watched the days go by, and those days turned to weeks, and weeks into months, but she still had not received the money. She had become extremely worried, for his letters to her were few and those she did receive were not abundant with information. Finally, five months after he had left, Damon sent her an envelope enclosed with money and appropriate train tickets. Also in the envelope was a letter that gave her instructions on which trains to take, what their schedules were, what countries she would be traveling through, and some phrases in different languages that would prove useful. At the bottom of the letter, he wrote down his apartment number and address.

So here they were, finally, on the last train of their adventure, headed to Rudrakot. The journey was quite long, but for Aislinn that was not such a bother. She enjoyed passing through all of the different countries, watching and listening to all of the strange people. No, what bothered her most, especially when they traveled through certain parts of the Middle East, was the fact that she and Gillian had to travel alone. They were often the subject of much attention, and Aislinn did not like being stared at with such suspicion. At times she felt angry with Damon for not sending some sort of a guide, but then reality would snap back to her. How would they afford that? Their trip alone was very expensive, and they never really had much money. Just enough to get by, and sometimes a little more. So she just had to ignore the staring as much as possible.

In fact, the only person that kept her in good spirits throughout these hard times was Gillian. She had become pregnant with her when she was sixteen, a pregnancy that she tried to hide from everyone as long as possible. But eventually people began to notice her rounding stomach, and the news spread like wildfire. They stared at her as she walked down the streets and chattered behind her back. Her friends, some she had known since childhood, were forbidden to speak to her. But none of their hurtful comments were anything compared to her parents' reaction. Her mother yelled at her for several minutes, exclaiming that she was a disgrace to the family, demanding to know who the father was. Aislinn reluctantly told her, for she really believed that Damon loved her at the time. Her father, whose reaction was probably worse than her mother's, did not talk to her for months afterward - even though they lived in the same house. He would not even look her in the eyes for weeks.

Aislinn and Damon were forced into marriage in mid-March of 1912. They eventually moved into a small house in Kerry, as far away from their parents as they could afford. Aislinn loved her little house, which was chosen specifically for raising a family, but she was often very lonely. Damon, who was a soldier for the British Army, would have to spend many months in England, and she was often left to an empty house. She hated it tremendously because it gave her this false sense of aloneness, and a strange worry that she had been deserted.

Finally, to Aislinn's delight, about three months after her seventeenth birthday, Gillian was born. She was a tiny baby, born three weeks early, but eventually grew to be healthy and strong with the help of her mother's care and nourishment. For Damon, who's love was not entirely with Aislinn in the first place, and because he was still very young in years, the birth of his daughter did not have very much effect on his behaviour. For Aislinn, however, who had been carrying this little baby for months, who felt it kick and grow inside her, it was as if all the hard times of the past had vanished. All she could think about was how much she loved her daughter. Plus, now that she had someone to care for, she realized that she had to be strong. She had to be an example, a mentor, a teacher, and more. She had to be a mother.

Over the years Gillian grew into a beautiful, energetic, little girl. She had a strong desire to know about everyone and everything; a behaviour that Aislinn welcomed since the very beginning. However, there was one thing that set her apart from the other children: she only spoke Irish Gaelic. Originally, Aislinn, who spoke fluent Irish and English, had intended to teach her both languages simultaneously. She wanted her daughter to be connected to her Irish roots. But for some reason Gillian completely ignored English - a fact that Damon had argued with Aislinn many times before. "For one thing," he would say, "Ireland is ruled by England, and I am an English soldier. I cannot have my daughter speaking fluent Irish, especially as a native language. People will talk. My position could be lowered. You must teach her English. You understand, don't you?"

As much as he tried to persuade her, Aislinn could not agree. She did not tell him this, of course. Instead she kept her responses to herself.

However, there was another reason (a more important one according to Aislinn) why Gillian needed to learn English: she could not talk to her father. Knowing this fact, Aislinn promised Damon that she would teach her the language. The lessons went on for days and days, but still Gillian would not pick it up. Even now, being six years old, she still was very determined not to learn it.

And Damon would not speak a word of Irish.

The train rocked steadily under it's passengers. This helped Aislinn drift off to a light sleep, let her calm her mind for a few minutes, but she was soon awaken by a loud voice.

"We will arrive at our next destination in approximately ten minutes. Anyone traveling to Rudrakot or the neighboring cities of Ahmenhabad and Janpiur must prepare to depart." He spoke once more only to repeat what he had said in Hindi.

That was her call. She slowly began to reach for her suitcase, the heat's spell cast upon her body, but a man had pushed her out of the way only to reach his own bag first. "How rude," Aislinn thought, but she quickly pushed the situation out of her mind and took down her luggage. She brought only one bag; filled almost entirely with her and Gillian's clothes and a few of their personal belongings: Aislinn's memoirs, four books, and Gillian's favourite, handmade doll.

The train slowly began to reduce speed and, sooner than Aislinn was prepared, came to a gradual, but complete stop. Aislinn took a deep breath and said to her daughter, "Honey, wake up. We're here."

Sitting on an old bench, Aislinn watched the sun disappear behind a large building. It had been. . . an hour, perhaps, since she arrived at the station? She couldn't keep track of the time. What she did know was that the sun was beginning to set and Damon still had not arrived. "Where could he be?" she thought. Did he forget that they would be coming? If so, how is that even possible? People were beginning to stare at her now, disregarding common courtesy. This angered her greatly, but she did not return any of their glances. Instead she tried to think of what she should do. She could not wait here much longer, but how safe would they be wandering alone in a strange city?

Finally, after the sun had fully set, she had made up her mind and, rather than spend the night at the station, decided to find her way by herself. While holding Gillian tightly with her right hand and her suitcase with her left, she made her way through the populated city.

She did not know how she did it, how long it took, or how many people she talked to. Even so, she found herself standing at the front door of Damon's apartment. She tried to remember everything that had happened. To her relief, not as many people stared at her along the way. Was that just their nature? Or did they all strangely act opposite of everyone at the station just to keep her in a calmer mood? She didn't know, nor did she press the thought further. She remembered meeting one family, the Deshpanels. Intentionally she stopped them only to ask for directions, but what she did not expect was their warm nature, and a small bag of sweets as a welcome gift to her and Gillian: the newcomers of the city.

Feeling slightly happier, Aislinn raised her hand up to the door, but stopped herself before she could create any noise. Should she knock or just walk right in? After all, this was still her husband's home, but wouldn't that make it her home as well?

Then a disturbing thought came to her. What if - heaven forbid - she would interrupt anything? Did she really want to surprise him with her presence? Was that why he did not pick them up?

A sense of dread started to grow inside her. But, no, she should not think that way. She must remain positive. Not just for Gillian, but for her own sake as well.

Finally, having settled her inner argument, she raised her hand and knocked on the door three times.

"Damon?" she asked. "Are you still up? We're here."

But there was no answer.

"Damon, are you there?" she asked a little more loudly.

Still, no one answered.

Aislinn knocked on the door once more. "Damon!" she shouted yet again. Then, almost instantly, she remembered to keep her voice down. Even though their location was not very uninviting, she was still new to the area and didn't know any of the other residents.

Frightened by her own imagination, she turned the doorknob without thinking and, to her surprise, pushed open the door. Both Aislinn and Gillian stood there for a moment to look at there new home. They could not see much, only vague outlines of furniture, for the room was almost completely dark. In fact, the only visible light came from the moon outside.

When Aislinn finally summoned up enough courage, she walked in, put down her suitcase, closed and locked the door, and, still holding Gillian's hand, looked around the room for a light. After about a minute or so she found one and turned it on, so that a dim glow spread across the room.

The apartment itself wasn't too bad. It was nicely furnished, with all the modern appliances, and had wood floors in every room. To the right of the entrance was a lovely finished living area, with large windows and cream-coloured walls. There wasn't much furniture, only one small table and a couch, which wasn't a very tremendous surprise knowing that this had been the home of only one man.

To the left was a clean, European-style kitchen. Actually, now that the thought came to her, the apartment itself did not have much of native India in it - just a few traditional designs here and there, and a few small, ornate carvings near the top of the walls. In-between the two rooms, Aislinn could see, was a small hallway that lead to a bathroom and a bedroom.

But something did not seem right. There wasn't really any sign that anyone had been living there at all - no pictures on the walls, no notes taped to the cabinets, no shoes left outside of the closet, not even a sock that had accidentally fallen onto the floor on it's way to the laundry chute. Were they in the right place? Had she perhaps misread the address and, in doing so, lead herself to an unused apartment? She took the directions out again, just to be sure, and, to her disappointment, they were indeed in the right place. This was her new home.

Although Aislinn did not notice, Gillian had been watching her mother's face fall with each passing minute. Finally, not being able to hold in her thoughts any longer, she voiced what was on her and her mother's mind.

"Is this where we're going to live?" she asked.

"Yes, sweetie," Aislinn responded.

"I don't like it. There are no colours."

"Yes but, even so," Aislinn told her, "we must make the best of it. Tomorrow we can each draw a picture and I will hang them on the walls."

Gillian looked around and, while her eyes were still glued to the living room, said, "It's going to take more than just two."

"Then we shall draw ten," Aislinn said. "Now, will that do?"

"I guess," Gillian answered as if she was contemplating her mother's response. "Mummy?" she asked.

"Yes, darling?"

"Where is Damon?"

Aislinn froze. How would she answer that question? She opened her mouth to respond, but no words came out. Instead, she just stood there, gazing at various objects around the room, as if one of them was hiding the right words to say.

"Mummy?"

"I - I don't know where he is, sweetie."

Gillian paused for a moment, then, with a firm look on her face, said, "Good. I don't like it when he's here."

"Gillian," Aislinn said, feeling suddenly uncomfortable, "it's very late. Why don't you pick out a book? I'll read one to you before bed." Then she finally let go of her daughters hand, walked swiftly into the bedroom, and, as quickly as she came in, paused to look around. It was quiet and empty - very much like the rest of the apartment. There was an open window to her right, with long, cream-coloured curtains that matched the walls. They occasionally floated through the air as the gentle wind found it's way into the room.

The truth had finally begun to sink in. She had come to an empty house. Damon was still the same person he had been in Ireland, and would continue to be that way. Nothing was going to change.

Aislinn felt sick in her stomach. She wanted to get out, to live in a place where she and Gillian were respected and appreciated. But she had no money and nowhere to go. All she could do at the moment was wait for her husband to come home. But would he? Where could he be? Who was he with? Was she safe here? And Gillian? Would she be alright living here? What type of country was India anyway?

All of the weight she had to carry beforehand had instantly returned, but with an added headache. She felt weak and uneasy, and had to sit down on the bed in order to relax her mind and body.

"Damon? Damon?" she called out yet again, a little softer this time, hoping that she would hear his voice in return. But all was silent. She had begun to cry then, long and hard, but could not force herself to stop. She felt more alone than ever before and had no one to share her pain, no shoulder to lean on.

Then she heard a little voice above her cries.

"Mummy?"

Aislinn looked up to find Gillian standing in the doorway, and a sudden realization came to her: she cannot be seen in such a state. She must stop her tears from coming. She must be strong for her daughter.

"Gillian, what are you doing here?" she asked while wiping the tears from her face. Then, seeing her daughter's little, empty hands, she added, "I thought you were picking out a book to read. Go back and find one."

But Gillian ignored her mother's last comment.

"Mummy, are you okay?" she asked.

"I'm fine, sweetie. Go find a book."

"You are crying."

"No I'm not."

But she was, and with no sign of stopping. She buried her face inside her hands, as if that would hide her tears. She felt ashamed for not being able to cover up her emotions. Gillian should not see such things. She deserved a healthy childhood, one with happy memories, not this.

But Gillian knew something was wrong. Sensing Aislinn's pain, she walked up to her, climbed onto her lap, and they hugged each other tightly for several minutes. Aislinn continued to sob, and Gillian responded by saying, "It's okay, Mummy. Keep crying. You'll feel better."

When Aislinn had finally settled down, Gillian looked into her eyes and said, "Don't worry. Everything will be alright. I will be strong with you. You are tired. Let's go to sleep. We can read a book tomorrow."

And, for the first time in hours, Aislinn smiled. "Are you sure?" she asked, her voice a little calmer now. "I promised you that we would read tonight."

"Yes," Gillian answered. Then, after looking back at the dim hallway, she added, in a slightly worried tone, "But can we sleep together? I don't want to be alone."

Aislinn looked once at the hall as well, then at her daughter, and said, "Yes, you may. This place frightens me, too."

And so, not caring that they were still fully dressed, they both climbed into the bed and went to sleep.