The Portuguese House

by Pamela D Holloway

The monsoon was over, the gardens looked at their most lush. The buds on the frangipani and hibiscus were forming, ready to burst forth with their colour and perfume. The new hammock with its silk padding liner hung under the palms and, in Anjali’s sitting room, seven beautifully made silk-covered cushions awaited their new owner.

  Ashok cleaned the car inside and out every day. Not a speck of dust was to be seen. He was disappointed that he would not be driving Madame O’Mal home from the airport but he realised the limousine on loan from the Taj Hotel would provide a more comfortable and spacious journey.

  Anjali had prepared the best guest room for Sir Philip. Madame’s room was as always in perfect order. For the nurse, who Sir Philip said was travelling with them and would stay until Madame was totally fit again, she had prepared one of the top-floor bedrooms and an adjoining room that had at one time been a nursery would now be a sitting room. She would have to share a bathroom with Aarav but didn’t think that would be a problem. Anjali mentioned it to Aarav who had shrugged good-naturedly. “It’s only for a few weeks Anjali – what does it matter? She must be alright, the nurse, or Madame would not have brought her back.”

  “I am more worried about the man, Sir Philip Broderick,” Anjali stated his name very formally. “He is the man Madame is to marry. I know what we think won’t make any difference.”

  “He better not be like the last one that stayed here.”

  “He won’t be,” Anjali assured him with more confidence than she felt.

  *

  It was quite hard leaving the hospital – so many people who had cared for her during her protracted stay wanted to say goodbye. Sparrow’s friends, who had discovered the nickname and liked it also, came to say goodbye to a friend who they hoped would be back with them in two to three months.

  The lift carried the party downstairs to where a stretch limo was waiting at the kerbside. Very gently Philip helped Liz out of the chair and into the car. All the luggage, including a somewhat battered looking case of Sparrow’s, was already loaded. They were on their way at last. Liz thought her face might crack she was smiling so much.

  Once they were settled on the flight Liz wouldn’t admit, even to herself, she felt exhausted from the mental as well as physical effort she had made so far. Sparrow was chattering away to the cabin crew – so excited that she thought she would burst. She had never dreamed in even her wildest imaginings that one day she would travel First Class.

  With a sense of relief, Philip closed his eyes. Part one completed, he thought. Getting Liz out of hospital had taken patience, ingenuity and hard work on Liz’s behalf. He allowed his mind to drift and thought back to the previous evening when he had spent a long time talking with the Prime Minister. Julia had finally agreed to accept Philip’s resignation but only on one condition that he accepts another role. For a moment Philip was taken aback, but when he heard the proposal he agreed straight away.

  “I can’t even give you a date,” he had said.

  “When you can you will,” she had answered pragmatically. Thoughtfully she asked about Jack and Jamie. “I shall look forward to seeing them again. Are they going to visit you again in India over Christmas?”

  “I don’t think I could keep them away if I tried,” Philip had laughed. Now thinking back to the conversation, he thought how strange and how meaningful his phrase had been. It would be his and Elizabeth’s first Christmas together. Christmas in India, he liked the sound of it, he thought as he drifted off into a light sleep.

  They were met in Delhi as arranged. Sparrow was wonderful with Liz encouraging her – telling her how well she was doing; nevertheless, both she and Philip were a little anxious. Her pallor was noticeable, and she was very quiet, a sure sign, Philip knew, that she was exhausted.

  Once at the embassy Liz went straight to bed – she didn’t even feel guilty, just relieved to lie down between the cool sheets. She refused food and Sparrow decided sleep was the best thing for her. She left her with a glass of freshly squeezed lemonade and a small jug to refill her glass if she needed to.

  That evening in the morning room, the room where Philip and Liz had eaten a quiet breakfast together so long ago, Sparrow sat with the new British Ambassador, his wife and Philip. She might have been daunted by the opulence, the grandeur – but Sparrow, being her usual chirpy self, kept them all amused with her questions and admiration of all she observed.

  Paul and Cynthia Knightly listened with amazement when Philip told them he had resigned. He had waited to discuss personal matters until Sparrow was being taken on a guided tour of the embassy, followed by a drive through some of the busiest locations that it had been suggested she might enjoy seeing at night. She was accompanied by a young woman of much the same age who had been given the responsibility of keeping Sparrow company during the planned short stay in Delhi, and was a member of the secretariat at the embassy.

  Philip would have been surprised had he heard the Knightlys talking as they lay in bed later that evening. They decided Philip was making a bad mistake. They had never met Liz and felt Philip had given up what had been a brilliant career for an invalid. “A bad mistake,” Paul kept muttering as he undressed. “A bad mistake.” Cynthia felt the same, but felt it was a heroic and romantic gesture and thought Liz O’Malley a lucky woman – even though she had been in such a terrible accident.

  Sparrow crept in to see Liz before she herself went to bed. Liz looked serene lying asleep and she realised that once fully recovered Liz would be a beautiful woman again.

  It was good not to have to fly for a few days and, by the next morning, Liz felt considerably stronger. With Sparrow’s help, she dressed and was wheeled along the corridor to the lift. The wheelchair, at her insistence, was left outside the dining room and, with Sparrow hovering, she walked unaided into the room for breakfast.

  Cynthia and Paul were surprised and delighted to see her so much recovered, and the four of them had a jolly breakfast with Paul regaling them with stories of his first weeks in post, when he found life in India more complex than he had imagined.

  As breakfast progressed, Cynthia, always observant, saw looks exchanged between Philip and Liz and realised whatever they had gone through in the past and since the accident, they obviously had found happiness with each other. Several times during breakfast Liz found Philip looking at her with such intensity that she lowered her eyes. She saw so much there – love, passion, hope and she knew she must get well as quickly as she could. She longed for home and in two more days she would be there.

  The plane landed at Goa. Excited and happy that she was finally almost home buoyed Liz so much that her exhaustion seemed to fade. Philip had used his influence and arranged for the plane to be met by the Taj limo at the foot of the gangplank. Within seconds of landing, they were whizzed across the compound to customs almost before anyone else had left the plane. Being an internal flight, security was minimal and before she knew it Liz was sitting in the comfortable Taj vehicle heading for home.

  The noise of the airport with seemingly hundreds of porters touting for business had surrounded her. Traders plying their trade. Reunions of family members. Liz had almost forgotten the wonderful noise, the spices in the air and the organised chaos that somehow seemed to make everything go smoothly in the end.

  “Stop the car,” she said urgently, pressing the button to lower the electrically operated window as she spoke. “Ashok!” she called out the window. Ashok had just parked the car and was about to go and retrieve the luggage, feeling very important as he had a special pass enabling him to do so. The arrangement had been made to make sure Liz had minimal time waiting for the luggage to arrive.

  Ashok came over to the window, his brown face beaming with delight. “Oh, Madame O’Mal welcome home – we have missed you. Welcome back to your home, we shall make you well again.”

  “Thank you Ashok – I shall soon get better now I am home.”

  L
iz had seen, mirrored in his face, shock at her appearance. She had adjusted to how she looked these days with her thin face and figure and the scar, but she hadn’t realised what a shock it would be for those whose last memory of her was when she left for the tour of the States.

  Sparrow’s eyes were on stalks. She was mesmerised and shocked by some of the sights she saw from the air-conditioned comfort of the limousine. She saw tented communities where there were dozens of tents, frequently made from rags and scavenged wood. Women crouching over smoky fires and small children running semi-naked through the dirt and rubble. How, she wondered, could Liz think this was beautiful and serene, the adjectives she had used to describe her home?

  They passed a busy junction where brightly sari-clad women sold and bartered fruit and vegetables. A faded and slightly rusted sign swinging in the breeze declaiming “modern pharmacy” – everything medical. They passed countless little shops and stalls, several with “first-class tailor” signs written on white cards and proudly displayed. Dogs wandered freely across the road, seemingly impervious to speeding traffic on the narrow pot-holed surface. Cows and bullocks, leaner than she could have imagined, sucked at dried grasses. A few pigs, probably owned by someone, wandered aimlessly in piles of rubbish searching for food.

  Sparrow had a sense of despair and, had she but known it, her thoughts were in part mirrored by Philip. He had lived in India for enough years to know its poverty, but after the elegance of Paris and the most modern of cities, Phoenix, it was a bit of a culture shock for him too.

  He looked at Sparrow’s face which reflected her thoughts. Feeling eyes on her, she turned her head and met Philip’s gaze. He raised his eyebrows in an acknowledgement of her shock – she gave a slight grimace, followed by a smile which he found reassuring, then turned her gaze once more to the passing scene.

  In the few seconds she had turned her gaze away, the car must have taken a turn off the “main road” for now the road, though still narrow, was lined with palm trees of varying sizes from the tall statuesque ones, to the smaller ones only four to five feet in height. Between the trees she noticed small thatched or tiled flat concrete-roofed houses, simple maybe, but to her relief looking like proper homes. Lines of washing were strung out between the trees and, every now and again, Sparrow noticed a house far back off the road. She saw an occasional glimpse of the sea and realised that, at last, they must be getting closer.

  Liz found herself holding her breath. They passed Father Julian’s church and the primary school that she had founded and continued to support. Bernadette and Shantaram’s first home, and they had now opened a second one, managed by a like-minded couple who were happy to follow in their footsteps.

  Finally, finally, she saw the gates and the sign Villa O’Mal. She was home – at last, she was home. The gates opened as the car drew near two of the garden boys who had been watching out. “Do not let Madame O’Mal wait,” Ashok had warned them before he had left for the airport to collect the luggage.

  Sparrow had the first glimpse of her new home. She began to realise why Liz had so badly wanted to return. The gardens were so beautiful and peaceful, and as the car finally drew to a stop near the flight of steps leading to the front door, Anjali, as if on cue, opened the door and stood for a moment, her hands clasped tightly together, trying hard to keep her emotions under control.

  The chauffeur came round to open the door for Liz, but Philip was already out of the car, determined to carry her.

  She put her hand on his arm. “No Philip, I shall walk up the steps of my home.” With Philip on one side and Sparrow on the other, Liz slowly climbed the steps to the door. Triumphantly she arrived by Anjali. “I have come home, Anjali,” she said softly. Anjali, the tears now falling uncontrollably from her eyes, put her arms around her mistress. “Yes, Madame dear, you have come home.”

  Liz looked beseechingly at Philip. Without a word he swung her up into his arms and she pointed to the stairs. “Please Philip, to my room.” She was as light as a feather and he carried her effortlessly as directed.

  Sparrow, for once a little unsure what to do, stood at the foot of the stairs. Liz needed her help but she also realised that she and Sir Philip needed to be alone for a while. The ever-perceptive Anjali took control. “Would you like to see your room or would you prefer a nice cup of tea? Madame will be having one in her room of course.” A relieved Sparrow nodded. “A cuppa would be loverly,” she said, her broad cockney accent sounding strange to Anjali’s ear.

  Sparrow followed the housekeeper to the breakfast room where she and Aarav ate their meals. “Come,” Anjali said. “Meet Aarav.” Sparrow dutifully followed Anjali into the kitchen where Aarav had already prepared a tray for Madame and her fiancée. A silver tea-pot and small milk jug. Some slices of fresh lemon – Madame liked her Earl Grey tea with lemon – and a small plate of freshly baked tiny shortbread biscuits.

  Aarav glanced up as he adjusted the plate on the tray. He looked with interest at the young English girl who was going to live with them for a while. She was so pretty, was his first thought, though she had a strange haircut – a bit like a boy but a bit longer and fair, fair as the sunshine he thought.

  Aarav loved the fair hair, probably because everyone he knew had dark hair and brown skin in various shades. Her skin looked almost as white as milk, he was enchanted. “Hello there, are you the cook?” she asked in her direct way, holding out her hand as she spoke. He took the neat square hand with the short square fingernails. He saw her eyes were vivid blue and he fell in love.

  “What are you called?” he asked.

  “My name is actually Janet, but now I am called Sparrow, and I like it best. I’m from London you see, born within the sound of Bow Bells so I’m, well I’m like a cockney sparrow, they say that back home. So they, your—” she hesitated. Anjali stepped into the breach.

  “Madame O’Malley?”

  “Yes, that’s right. Your Madame and Sir Philip – they nicknamed me Sparrow. Like the bird,” she added by way of explanation. “’Cos I’m always busy hopping about a bit and I sing as I go, so I guess I’m chirpy like a sparrow.”

  Aarav was bemused and bewitched, though he didn’t really understand much of what she said. Perhaps because she felt more relaxed after the formality of the embassy, and travelling in the rather important company of Sir Philip and Liz O’Malley she now was chattering, her cockney accent becoming stronger by the minute.

  “So,” Anjali said. “Your real name is Janet.” Sparrow nodded. “Then I shall call you Janet.” Sparrow grinned. “You’ll be the only one then,” she said. “I like being called Sparrow.” Anjali decided to say nothing she would wait and see what Madame O’Malley did, that would make her decision. To Aarav however she was Sparrow.

  chapter 43

  Philip carried Liz up the broad staircase and, following her directions, found her room. “On the bed?” he queried. “No, the chaise, please darling.” He put her down so gently that she laughed a shade reproachfully. “Oh Philip, I’m not a china doll.” He smiled but said nothing, looking at the peaceful and beautiful room, from whose windows he could glimpse the delightful views she had described so vividly.

  “Isn’t it beautiful here?” she almost whispered, partly telling herself and wanting confirmation from Philip. He turned away from the window, his face lit with a smile. “It certainly is, my darling!”

  Anjali arrived with the tea tray and Aarav’s home-baked cookies. Liz felt a peace and contentment and knew in her heart that now she would get strong again.

  The household settled quickly into its new routine. Philip slept in the best guest room for the moment and Sparrow was happily ensconced on the top floor. Anjali, who had been shocked at her mistress’s appearance, was happy to see a little colour returning to her wan face. Aarav was full of inventive ideas to tempt her with delicious morsels and, although she still struggled to regain her appetite, she was finding at
last her pleasure in mealtimes returning.

  Philip was up early every morning and having “met” Coco and Guinness, he decided he had no choice but to exercise them. He was unused to the saddle Liz had bought, but found on closer acquaintance he rather liked it. He soon resolved that he must find a horse of his own as he needed a horse more suited to his height. He and Liz talked it over and Liz decided she would like to buy him a horse as a wedding present. She was still overwhelmed by his constant concern for her – the hammock being a case in point.

  The morning after they had arrived, and after her first proper night’s sleep for weeks if not months, she wanted nothing more than to lie in the garden. Sparrow, who had settled into the household with amazing ease, helped her with her ablutions and re-dressed her legs.

  When Liz confided that she would like to be in the garden on the hammock, but it would need something on it to make it more comfortable, Sparrow had gone to find Anjali. “You ask Sir Philip to carry Madame downstairs and into the garden, and she will see for herself the hammock needs nothing,” Anjali had said. Sparrow repeated the conversation to Liz and Philip, who had just joined them, smiled and said nothing, but picked Liz up and carried her downstairs and outside. Sparrow followed, intrigued.

  They made a small procession, Philip and Liz with Sparrow following and Anjali bringing up the rear. “Oh look, Philip, look at my lovely new hammock.” Liz exclaimed. He laid her carefully on the silk-lined hammock with its colourful soft cushions. “What absolute bliss,” she said, settling herself comfortably. “How did this come about?” she queried.

  “Sir Philip,” Anjali said quickly, “and Nina has the original one.” Liz looked up at Philip gratefully.

  “You spoil me,” she said happily.

  “I have a number of years to catch up with!”

  So the daily routine began to take shape. Philip’s early rides. Breakfast together in her bedroom, whilst Sparrow ate with Anjali and Aarav. Then Philip would disappear while Sparrow helped Liz. Liz would then be carried to the hammock. Philip would stay for a while, then go off on his mysterious trips. He was, he would say, looking for a horse or just finding his way around.