The Portuguese House

by Pamela D Holloway

  Armed with the dimensions of the baskets, Liz asked the tailor’s wife to make her some flat covered padding and covers that were washable. She chose a bright fabric and finished up with zippered covers that would be easy to remove from the pads for washing two quite upmarket cat beds!

  Sanjay, one of the carpenters, was prevailed upon to make a cat flap from the garden into the laundry room. Though why Madame wanted cats in the house no one could understand. “Do you think she might be a bit mad in the head?” Sanjay asked Ashok in all seriousness.

  “No, it is just that Madame O’Mal is not like us.”

  “Mad,” concluded Sanjay.

  Liz arrived back at the hotel, showered and changed, and then went to see the general manager who had become a friend. “I am leaving in one week,” Liz informed Vihaan de Sousa. “I just wanted you to know before I told the front desk.”

  “The villa is ready?” he asked. She nodded. “Do you know what it is called by the locals?”

  Liz shook her head in surprise, she hadn’t even thought of a name for her new home yet. “What have they come up with?” she asked.

  “Villa O’Mal,” he grinned as he spoke. “I think it is quite good.”

  “Well,” she answered thoughtfully. “They call me Madame O’Mal, so why not Villa O’Mal.” It seemed as if the last piece of the jigsaw puzzle had slotted into place. She was going home next week. Going home to Villa O’Mal.

  chapter 7

  The furniture had arrived as promised from Mumbai. Liz was so excited, she felt as if she was having all her Christmases at once. The furniture, which she had chosen with such care, in her opinion, looked better in the Villa than in the shops where she had first viewed it! Her bedroom with its king-sized bed and the built-in cupboards, built to her design by Sanjay, plus a dressing table and padded stool.

  The marble floor now had rugs on either side of the bed and another rug by a low table placed near the veranda windows, with a comfortable chair so she could sit and enjoy the view of the gardens. Feeling incredibly contented she sat for the very first time in the chair she had carefully selected. A deep sigh escaped from her as she leaned back, marvelling in the transformation that had been wrought in the garden.

  Now, she could see the beach between the palm fronds – and the glitter of the sea in the bright afternoon sunlight. Standing up, she realised that apart from Nina who needed training, she had not organised the household staff she needed. The hotel chef’s brother had not yet been for an interview and, even if he had, the top floor needed work done to redesign it into more suitable staff quarters than the Portuguese had provided for their staff.

  Liz walked into the huge bathroom with its built-in linen cupboard. She had decided it would be practical if each of the bathrooms had storage for bed and bathroom linen, so that when beds were stripped and towels removed for laundry the replacements would be to hand. She also felt it would be an easier way of controlling her purchases. It also provided space for cleaning materials and spare toiletries which were not needed immediately.

  Her bathroom, with its sunken bath, had a generous shower corner fully glassed-in. A small design on the marble there and the touch of peach was picked up by the towels. A generous bath sheet and two hand towels awaited use. Liz couldn’t help but feel proud of all she had achieved and tonight she and Nina would make up the bed. It would give the young woman her first experience of working in the house.

  Later that evening Liz telephoned the number she had been given for Aarav, the potential cook. At first, there seemed confusion at the number she rang, but after repeating her request to speak to Aarav several times to a variety of voices, she was finally understood. “Madame?” a clear voice said down the line.

  “Aarav?” Liv asked.

  “Yes, is that Madame O’Mal?” Liz grinned, the name was obviously a fixture now. After several minutes they arranged for Aarav to come and see her the next afternoon. He suggested, and Liz thought it a brilliant idea, that he bring ingredients with him and cook her a meal. “What do you prefer?” he wanted to know.

  “Indian, Chinese or International.” Liz was charmed. If he was as good as he sounded she may well have found the perfect cook. Chef, she corrected herself mentally, they did prefer that title and if he was good, why not!

  The following day Aarav arrived promptly on his bicycle. The ingredients carefully strapped in a box on the pillion. As soon as she met him Liz was taken by his infectious enthusiasm and his longing to cook something she would enjoy. She had decided for tonight she would eat Indian food. Goan she found didn’t really appeal to her and Goan rice she found chewy and unpalatable. No, tonight Indian, and yes, she had told Aarav, she liked it moderately spicy.

  Once or twice she wandered into the kitchen. First, he was chopping and preparing. Then, wonderfully aromatic smells emanated from that direction. He was scandalised when she came back into the kitchen for the third time. She realised he didn’t want her there – he was, she felt – a genius at work! She showed him the extractor fan she had installed, otherwise, despite closed doors, her entire house would smell of curry!

  At exactly seven p.m. the pre-arranged time, she went into the dining room. Nina, having been shown the intricacies of bed-making, had also been shown how to set the table. Talking about it later to Ashok she confessed to finding it all very strange. They had already moved in to their little home with its new simple wood floors and cotton rugs given to them by Liz. She had also bought mattresses – one larger one for Ashok and Nina, and a smaller one for their daughter. She had also bought a cot for the baby but they were not sure they wanted to use it as the baby usually slept with them. Nina and Ashok were trying to get used to the comfort of the mattress which rested on a low frame that Ashok had made. More often than not though, they slept on their old familiar rug on the floor!

  The couple ate their food with their fingers, scooping up their rice more easily than Liz did with a fork. Nina found the array of cutlery on the table excessive for just one person. “It all has to be washed and polished as well Ashok.”

  Ashok put his arm around his pretty wife. “She has taken good care of us and of our children. Now we must take care of Madame O’Mal as long as she needs us, maybe our whole life.” Nina was silent. It was true. They had more than they ever dreamed possible; for now, though, she felt confused by the big villa and all the things she had to learn. Even Ashok had changed because of Madame. He now wore leather sandals on his feet and smart navy shorts and loose tee shirts in the same colour, and Madame had even bought him a hat to protect his head as he worked in the gardens.

  Liz sat patiently waiting for her dinner to appear. Aarav, looking taller than ever in his chef’s hat, came into the dining room carrying, no bearing, she smiled inwardly thinking, as he walked towards her with the first course. “I have made chaat dahi batata puri Madame O’Malley, for your starter tonight. I hope you will enjoy this.” He put it solemnly in front of her and the delicious aroma of the sauce was as tasty to eat as to breathe in.

  The main course was a simple chicken jalfrezi and it was one of the best she had ever tasted. For dessert, he produced mango ice-cream with green coloured halwa – feather light and a sufficiently small portion that despite having eaten so well she managed to eat and enjoy. She sat back feeling relaxed. This decision was one of the easiest she had made.

  Aarav came in to inquire if she would like coffee. Liz shook her head, she could tell he was on tenterhooks. “Aarav that was one of the most delicious dinners I have ever had.” Aarav beamed. He waited, thinking this was a good sign. Madame took a small sip of white wine. Aarav felt his heart beating faster. “The flavours you created tonight were amazing, strong, yet subtle. The meat was so tender and the rice the lightest, fluffiest, I think I have ever tasted.” She stood up. “Come with me Aarav.” She led the way to the sitting room with its cream sofas and bright silk scatter cushions in deep pinks, blues
and yellows. They would have looked garish in England but here their splashes of colour only seemed to emphasise the restful room they were in. “Please sit Aarav,” Liz indicated a chair. Aarav sat feeling somewhat overawed. Madame O’Mal seemed pleased but this was the moment of truth.

  “Aarav, what can I say? The dinner tonight was superb. Is your International, Chinese and Goan cooking as good?” For a moment Aarav looked modestly at the floor. Then, squaring his shoulders, he looked Liz steadily in the eyes.

  “I shall make occasional mistakes Madame, or cuisine that may not appeal to you, but I can say I am a good chef.” Liz smiled. She loved the directness of these Goans. She stood up and walked towards him holding out her hand. He stood immediately.

  “If you are happy to take the job, then I am happy to employ you.” She named a figure that was beyond his dreams.

  “The top floor of this house will be for staff. The work there has not really started yet, but if you don’t mind it being a bit basic you are welcome to move in straight away. I will go to Panaji tomorrow to buy furniture for your room.” Aarav almost danced. He could hardly wait to thank his older brother for the recommendation – and his mother, father and sisters would be so proud of him. He would be able to give them money every week and make a real contribution to the family. It was what was expected and what he wanted to do.

  “I shall arrive tomorrow Madame in time for me to cook your dinner.”

  chapter 8

  Liz felt lonely. The house felt big and empty now Aarav had left. He had cleaned the kitchen until it gleamed, she would have no worries on that score. The huge extractor fan had done its work and the room smelt only sweet with the faint fragrance of herbs.

  The following morning, before leaving for Panaji, Liz telephoned the Navhind Times to place an advertisement for a housekeeper. She made it clear that the person must be fully trained. After all, she thought, this person must train Nina too. Nina, she quickly realised, was willing, but a little confused and frightened by the size, and to her, the luxury of the Villa O’Mal. Even Liz thought of it by that name now, and Vihaan de Sousa, the hotel manager and now her friend, had even had the name carved in stone as a house-warming gift. It stood like a sentinel, at the left side of the wrought-iron entrance gates for all to see and admire.

  Kathy was coming to stay. At last Liz was ready for her. She had started writing again and the smallest room on the ground floor overlooking the back garden had become her study. Aarav had moved in, sleeping at first on a simple rug, but within a week the furniture for his room on the top floor had arrived along with furniture for the other two bedrooms. The two lavatories on that floor had been fitted earlier and the one bathroom was almost completed. Liz felt a great sense of satisfaction that her new home was so nearly ready from top to bottom.

  Kathy was bringing a male friend. She had told Liz that he was a really good friend but nothing more. Kathy had been so insistent that Liz thought the reverse was probably true, but nevertheless Nina and she had made the beds up in both guest rooms. Nargis continued to make good progress with the curtains. Sumptuous curtains now hung from the rails, the windows in the sitting room and one pair were up in Liz’s bedroom. Nargis was making them far better than Liz could have hoped and by using pictures from English magazines Nargis had quickly understood what Liz required.

  Ashok was having driving lessons. Liz had bought a Hyundai, she didn’t want or need anything pretentious, preferring for the most part to use taxis. Today, however, when meeting Kathy and Ronnie a taxi might not have the capacity. She found driving a total nightmare. Officially the driving was on the left, but of course, if there happened to be a large pothole, of which there were plenty, then quite calmly the drivers would drive happily on the right whether heavily laden lorries or a myriad of two-wheelers were coming directly towards them or not.

  So, Ashok was learning to drive. At Liz’s insistence, he inched slowly up and down the drive practising clutch control. He had driven her once and she had to keep her eyes closed for most of the journey. Not yet confident enough of driving her to the airport, Liz made the major decision to drive herself. Allowing plenty of time to get lost, she actually drove straight there, but the drive was not without its hairy moments. Stray dogs, blaring horns, potholes that in trying to avoid pushed her into oncoming traffic. “The sooner Ashok learns to drive the better,” she muttered to herself along with a number of expletives she had never verbalised before!

  Having parked the car Liz walked into the airport and straightaway saw her sister, Kathy, and a tall lanky chap that must be Ronnie. His hair, blonde, hung over his face half hiding it and she could see, even from a distance, the warmth between the two of them. For a moment she felt excluded from the magic circle, but soon Kathy was hugging her and the sisters clung to each other, equally happy to be together. “This is Ronnie,” Kathy said, finally extricating herself from Liz’s arms. He was tall, at least six feet something, and so thin Liz felt a puff of wind would blow him over.

  “You can call me Ronnie if you like, though it isn’t my real name,” he said as he shook Liz’s hand. Kathy laughed. “Darling, you are Ronnie to everyone, you know you are.” There was a certain intimate banter between the pair that Liz found confusing. Kathy had been so definite that they were “really good mates”, nothing more.

  Whilst Liz tried to keep her entire attention on the road with its many hazards, Kathy talked non-stop with Ronnie chipping in a word here and there. Kathy had of course been to Goa before for the photo shoot, but Ronnie oohed and aahed as he saw the abject poverty, with mean huts adjacent to the road, to run-down old villas that had once seen grander days.

  “I’m longing to see your villa,” Kathy said excitedly.

  “Well, here we are Kathy darling!” Ashok was at the gates and opened them as they turned off the road. Kathy saw the huge stone with Villa O’Mal carved into its surface. Before she could ask why the strange name she had her first sighting of the villa and she and Ronnie said, almost together, “Why, it’s stunning. It’s heavenly.” Liz felt a warm glow. In a way, she was used to its gentle beauty now, almost finding it hard to remember how it used to be.

  The new housekeeper opened the door, wearing the simple grey and yellow sari that she had chosen as her “uniform”. Anjali, as she liked to be called, had been one of six interviewees, and in Liz’s opinion, she had all the qualities that had been required. For the past four years, she had worked for a diplomatic family in Panaji, who now no longer needed her as they were moving to Delhi and fully staffed accommodation. She had been taken on as a housemaid, but soon outshone the housekeeper and the family had promoted her, getting rid of her lackadaisical predecessor. Anjali had quickly built a rapport with Nina and together they spoke Hindi and Konkani and some English. Ashok was teaching Nina English too and the girl was gaining in confidence.

  Anjali welcomed the guests and hoped Madame O’Malley’s journey had not been too hazardous. Anjali was the only member of Liz’s staff who called her by her correct name, and it distinguished her from the rest of the staff as if she was the most senior, which in fact she was.

  “Aarav has put tea and cookies in the sitting room, or would you prefer to go straight to your rooms?” Anjali asked.

  “Tea and cookies sound wonderful.” Kathy winked at Liz in response. Liz read volumes into it. “Darling Liz this is bliss. How have you done it? And last but not least I am glad to see you looking so happy.”

  Liz didn’t return to work, it was so lovely having Kathy staying with her, and she smiled as she thought of the wink, interpreting it as connected to her relationship with Ronnie. Kathy’s presence was really the icing on the cake at the end of her project.

  Ronnie had exclaimed when he saw the cool comfort of the sitting room with its restful outlook on the gardens. “Can I see the sea?” Kathy spoke excitedly.

  “You wait until you see the view from your bedrooms.” The main bedr
ooms all overlooked the back gardens with the view that Liz so adored. She hoped her first house guests would feel the same.

  The lemon tea drunk and enjoyed, and the freshly baked cookies consumed, Liz then accompanied her guests up the curved marble staircase. She showed Ronnie his room first. She had made one of the rooms less feminine with shades of soft blue and green. She showed him the bathroom too, with its restful colours being picked out by the softly luxurious towels. “This is a taste of heaven,” Ronnie exclaimed, as the sisters left him to unpack his belongings and shower and change.

  “Dinner at seven p.m.,” Liz informed him, rather hoping he would keep to his room until then, leaving her with an opportunity to catch up with her sister.

  Kathy’s room displayed its yellow tones with the curtains and bedspread finished just before they arrived from the airport. Nargis had been putting in overtime in order to complete the sewing before Madame’s important guest arrived.

  Once alone, the sisters sat on the sofa by the open French doors in Kathy’s bedroom. “Will you ever be able to tear yourself away from all this?” Kathy wanted to know.

  “I’m not sure,” Liz said thoughtfully. “I think it will get harder, not easier, but I think it is important I do come home to England from time to time.” The girls were silent, each wrapped in their own thoughts. Kathy, observing Liz, realised she had not seen her look this happy for several years, and Liz was so happy to see her younger sister but full of questions about Ronnie.

  “Tell me about Ronnie,” she began tentatively. “What on earth is his proper name?”

  Kathy smiled. “You do realise he is as gay as the poofiest poof.” Liz swallowed hard. How stupid of her, she should have realised. “Why ‘Ronnie’?”