She looked at me sharply. ‘Now you have entirely changed the subject and the conversation.’

She sat back in her chair, looking suddenly angry with me as if I had ruined her rhythm and I regretted asking her and tried to regain her but she was cold. I had disappointed her and she was not to be regained. We sat in silence for a while, listening to the sounds of Calcutta outside her window. I was not up to this I thought again, and in my own disappointment I couldn’t help myself spitefully thinking that she was an old woman after all, with an old woman’s temper. Then I felt myself blush like a child, a habit I’d had since I was a little boy, whenever I thought rude things. For some reason India was bringing back these childhood insecurities.

‘Tell me something,’ she suddenly leaned forward.

‘Yes?’ I was eager to get the conversation back in play but her next question surprised me, although I suppose it shouldn’t have.

‘Who was it that was found in the jungle? Was it Aga-tha? They won’t tell me!’

She sounded as indignant as a little girl and for a spilt second I was tempted to share that information with her, but something, perhaps a new feeling of power or obstinate male pride - just stopped me. She had obviously been longing to ask me since I arrived and perhaps the whole time she had built up to this. Now I was not going to give her the satisfaction. I shook my head: ‘Can’t tell you that Aunty.’

‘Ah,’ she smiled, trying to dismiss its importance. ‘Perhaps after all they have underestimated you. Perhaps indeed! This is a sign of strength. Well we shall see what you turn up in old Darjeeling, ah. Come back and tell me all about it. Next time I shall read the tarot for you. Do you know the cards, hmm…? The tarot card: for-tunes and des-tiny! You shuffle a pack, your hands glides and picks up a card… Poker for the soul - the Tower or the Lovers… the Devil or the Fool? The Ace of Cups? I wonder what your own destiny in India will be, ha?’

She rang a little silver bell on her side table and the cocky sergeant appeared, more like a waiter than a police officer. I left her quickly and bid the terrier-sergeant goodnight, though with a sense that they too were in cahoots at me, like a broad oriental conspiracy.