“I see.” Superintendent Direksz looked like he didn’t see at all.
“The clothes from the line. I had forgotten to take them in,” she explained patiently.
“While you were out did you hear anything? The dog barking?”
“No,” she said.
“Did you hear the dog?” he asked.
“I just said I didn’t,” she said.
“Didn’t you think that was strange?” Superintendent Direksz asked, looking suspiciously at her.
“No. I didn’t waste time thinking. It was going to rain and I didn’t want the clothes to get wet,” she said clearly.
“I see.” Superintendent Direksz looked up at the ceiling and squinted thoughtfully.
John tried not to smile.
“Did you see an individual?” Superintendent Direksz suddenly asked.
“A what?” she said blankly.
“A person,” Superintendent Direksz said.
She looked at John. He was looking away. He would, she thought bitterly.
“Yes,” she said, speaking softly again.
“Yes?” asked Superintendent Direksz, leaning forward.
“Krishna,” she said flatly.
Now John leaned forward too.
“Did he speak with you?” Superintendent Direksz asked intently. Constable Silva’s pencil was being subjected to a thorough licking.
“Yes,” she said.
“What did he say?”
“He said that if I told the Sudu Mahattaya he had been there, he would hurt my daughter,” Premawathi said, looking out of the veranda into the distance. Protect her now, she thought tiredly. And me too.
“What did he say he would do?” Superintendent Direksz asked.
“Rape her and kill her,” she said softly. Tears were running down her face but she wasn’t aware she was crying.
“Did he do this to you? Did he hit you?” Superintendent Direksz asked gently.
“Yes,” she said dully.
“Thank you, Premawathi,” Superintendent Direksz said kindly. “You can go now.”
Chandi emerged from behind the door to lead his mother back to the kitchen.
He held her hand firmly and pulled her. She followed mutely. Once, she leant against the wall and closed her eyes, breathing deeply. He waited with her. Finally, she straightened up, wiped her face with the corner of her reddha and continued.
By evening, Premawathi was back to normal and so was Chandi, although something in him had changed. He had grown up that day, formally assumed the role of the man in the family. The protector.
He avoided Rose-Lizzie all day, for he needed to be alone.
At dusk, he went for a walk. He went down the back path and found himself on the banks of the oya.
The evening light transformed it. Now, even its laughter seemed gentler, as if the day had mellowed it down. Long shadows lay on the water which softened its edges. The flowers on the trees sent forth their fragrance like a scented message. Flocks of birds flew home to snug, warm nests and juicy worms. Far away in the hills a bear monkey laughed raucously.
Chandi sat down and allowed the calm to envelop him.
He was not angry or afraid anymore.
Today, many new things had revealed themselves to him.
IT TOOK SUPERINTENDENT Direksz and his posse of policemen just under two weeks to find Krishna. Most of the people they questioned readily gave them the information they wanted, because the police were not known for their finesse or restraint when it came to questioning suspects, and because most people didn’t like Krishna.
Their search eventually led them to the mudukku area of Nuwara Eliya town, inside the maze of garbage-littered alleys that housed the illicit alcohol brewers, the purveyors of stolen property who resold it out of their back rooms, and a few prostitutes.
Kamala was one of the prettier ones, fair-skinned and rounded, and seemed to genuinely enjoy her job. According to Superintendent Direksz’s informants, she had been off the streets lately, and it was rumored that she had found herself either a wealthy full-time client or a new pimp.
In the gathering dusk, the policemen silently slid into place around the house.
Inside, Krishna bit savagely into Kamala’s soft round shoulder, enjoying her whimpers of protest. He drew back to admire his handiwork, his tooth-marks showing dark red against her fair skin. In one place, the skin had broken and a little dot of bright red blood was beginning to well out. He pushed her down on the mat and tugged feverishly at his sarong.
He never had time to mount her, for the door was suddenly kicked open. He leapt up, his string of curses cut off by a stinging slap which split his lip open. Superintendent Direksz prowled the room looking for evidence while his men alternately kicked and slapped Krishna until his face was a bloody mess. Then handcuffs were clamped on and he was led away.
Kamala stood silently through it all, secretly relieved, for while Krishna had been an exciting lover to start with, he had rapidly changed into a violent one, demanding all kinds of acts which even she had never heard of before.
Besides, she was anxious to get back on the streets, because she had three children to feed and Krishna had not believed in paying for her services.
THE NEWS OF Krishna’s arrest coincided with the news that John had employed a replacement for him. He told Rose-Lizzie who told Chandi.
“His name is Jinadasa and he’s from Colombo,” Rose-Lizzie confided. “Daddy told me he used to work for the Mortimers but now that they’re returning to England, Jinadasa’s coming to us.”
They didn’t need another houseboy, Chandi thought worriedly. The household was just beginning to return to normal and his mother’s fear was only just starting to dissipate. She no longer looked over her shoulder when she went out to hang the clothes to dry and had started to go out alone after dark again. With a lamp.
“I’ve seen him,” Rose-Lizzie continued, “and he’s very nice. He used to take me piggyback when I was little.”
He turned to look at her. “You stay away from him, at least at the beginning,” he said sternly.
“But Chandi,” she protested, “he’s nice. He really is.”
“That’s what we thought about Krishna and look how nice he turned out to be,” he retorted. Although that was not strictly true. They had always hated Krishna. Still Rose-Lizzie said nothing. Although Chandi had never talked to her about what had happened, she had known it was something serious. She slipped her hand into his.
“Rose-Lizzie, sometimes I don’t know what to do,” he said helplessly.
She leaned against his shoulder. “You always do the right thing, Chandi,” she said gravely.
“How do I know it’s right?” he asked.
“You’ll feel it here,” she said, placing her hand on his chest.
“There are too many things there,” he said hopelessly. “How will I feel anything with so much?”
“You will,” she said confidently.
chapter 22
JINADASA FINALLY ARRIVED, AND SO DID THE TUTOR.
The tutor came first, and on the day he was due, Chandi hung around the front garden with Rose-Lizzie.
Sally Mortimer had interviewed the applicant from Colombo and declared him to be far too young to teach a girl of Anne’s age, telling John on the telephone that “one never knew what these studious types got up to” and murmuring things about still waters running deep.
The tutor in London, however, had thoroughly impressed John’s friends and he had finally accepted the job.
Anne was afraid that he would be old and doddering, but a geriatric tutor was still better than going to England to live with her mother.
Her father had driven down to Colombo to pick him up and now she waited in a fever of impatience.
Chandi and Rose-Lizzie were in the middle of a game of hide-and-seek when they heard the car wheezing its way up the steep road. The game was forgotten as they flew to the front gate to open it. The car drove in slowly and stopped at th
e front steps. The passenger door opened. Anne, who was hanging out of her bedroom window, leaned out farther.
Robin Cartwright emerged.
Chandi’s first thought was that he wasn’t that old. Not like Appuhamy or anyone. He looked a little younger than the Sudu Mahattaya and a little older than his own mother. Which was actually quite an accurate guess, for Mr. Cartwright was thirty-eight years old. He was also quite hot and sweaty, his face a brilliant pink. He looked around him curiously, spotted Chandi and Rose-Lizzie and smiled broadly.
It was a huge smile that revealed not only his slightly horsey teeth, but also his pink gums. His eyes crinkled up until they almost disappeared. The children loved him instantly. Anne left her post at the window and came flying to the front door to greet him.
“Children, this is Mr. Cartwright,” John announced.
Rose-Lizzie held out her grubby hand. “How do you do,” she said graciously.
Mr. Cartwright took her outstretched hand and raised it to his lips. “Charmed, I’m sure, mademoiselle,” he said with an exaggerated French accent.
Rose-Lizzie dissolved into giggles and snatched her hand back. Mr. Cartwright had not been five minutes at Glencairn and had already made his first conquest.
Anne advanced shyly. “Welcome to Glencairn,” she said sweetly, and Mr. Cartwright smiled in return. “Thank you. You must be Anne,” he said. He spotted Chandi, who was hanging back. “Who’s this?” he asked, but nicely.
John pushed him forward. “This is Chandi,” he said.
“Hello, Chandi,” Mr. Cartwright said, shaking hands with him.
“How do you do,” Chandi said politely, and Rose-Lizzie beamed proudly.
The servants came out and were introduced too. Premawathi looked hard at him and relaxed. This one was all right. She could tell.
At dinner that night, Mr. Cartwright told them stories about the war and London, and they were funny and sad and happy stories. The girls were clearly besotted and hung on his every word. John didn’t know whether to laugh or feel piqued that he had been so quickly replaced as the main man in their lives.
John liked Robin Cartwright. There was something honest and open about him and he was clearly intelligent and eager to get to work with Anne. Classes were to start the following day.
After dinner, Rose-Lizzie ran to the kitchen to tell Chandi everything Mr. Cartwright had said. Chandi listened intently. He dared to hope that once he too finished at the church school, the Sudu Mahattaya might consider letting him sit in on Anne’s classes. The very thought excited him, for he was thirsty for knowledge and there was only a very small supply to be found at the free church school.
Mr. Cartwright soon became a favorite of the entire household. John watched Anne reading his own favorite poets aloud in her clear voice, and watched the enjoyment with which Mr. Cartwright answered her many questions, and he silently congratulated himself on his decision.
Lately, he had also seen Chandi and Rose-Lizzie steal in after school and sit quietly in a corner. Mr. Cartwright, if he saw them, gave no indication, but explained the arithmetic problem or the English grammar in more detail than he usually did.
He thanked Premawathi daily for cleaning his room, obligingly raised his voice when addressing Appuhamy and repeatedly praised Ayah for her efforts with Rose-Lizzie who, he said, was a proper English miss.
And in the evenings after the children had gone to bed, he would sit with John and talk about a variety of subjects from the politics of the war to the intricacies of Shakespeare. Both he and John looked forward to those conversations.
LESS THAN TWO months after Robin Cartwright’s arrival, the Mortimers left for England and Jinadasa arrived at Glencairn.
John was driving to the Nuwara Eliya station to pick him up, and since it was after school hours he took Rose-Lizzie and Chandi with him. The last time Chandi had ridden in this car, he had been on his way to Deniyaya. So much had happened since then, he thought, watching the hills and Jamis’s cow whizzing by.
“You’ll like Jinadasa, Chandi,” John said, glancing at him. It hadn’t escaped his notice that Chandi had been rather quiet when he had learned of Jinadasa’s imminent arrival. He could understand the boy’s fears after Krishna, who was still languishing in the Nuwara Eliya jail and would remain there for a long time, according to Superintendent Direksz.
They arrived at the station just as the train was coming in, so there was no time for anything. John parked the car haphazardly and they all ran to the platform. As Rose-Lizzie hopped from one foot to another in a fever of impatience, Chandi watched the passengers alighting from the train.
Suddenly Rose-Lizzie let go of her father’s hand and ran squealing toward a tall thin man who had got off from the far end of the train. He laughed and swung her round.
John advanced smiling broadly, for he knew Jinadasa from his many trips to the Mortimers’ and liked him for his efficiency and cheery attitude.
Chandi walked slowly behind John.
Jinadasa greeted John with the traditional “Ayubowan,” and smiled at Chandi. “Ah, this must be Chandi,” he said in Sinhalese. “Lizzie Baby has told me all about you.”
Chandi said “Yes,” and refused to say anything else all the way back to the bungalow. No one noticed because Rose-Lizzie was chattering away, showing Jinadasa the place where they fell asleep when they ran away, the Buddhist altar under the Bo tree, Jamis’s cow, which had strayed into the middle of the road and was looking in vain for juicy grasses there, and finally, Glencairn.
“It’s not a bit like Colombo, I’m afraid,” John said. “We lead a very quiet life here.”
“Oh, that’s okay, Sudu Mahattaya,” Jinadasa said easily. “I was born in Maskeliya, not too far from here, and I love the mountain air.”
“Maskeliya?” Rose-Lizzie asked with interest. “Did your family have a bungalow there?”
Jinadasa laughed. “Nothing as grand, Lizzie Baby,” he said. “We have a hut and a few acres.”
“Like Chandi’s grandparents,” Rose-Lizzie said knowledgeably and Chandi wished she hadn’t.
“Do your parents come from Maskeliya, Chandi?” Jinadasa asked with interest.
“No, my mother is from Deniyaya,” Chandi said shortly.
“Deniyaya!” Jinadasa said enthusiastically. “I went there once some time ago. It was beautiful!”
Must have been long ago, Chandi thought.
When they reached the house, Premawathi came out, gave Jinadasa a reserved welcome and led him to the kitchen to meet the others.
Rangi smiled, liking the look of this kind-looking man, and then Leela came in.
She entered the kitchen humming softly to herself and then stopped abruptly as she saw him. Jinadasa, who’d been telling Premawathi about his train journey, stopped in midsentence. They stared at each other and then Leela murmured something and fled.
Premawathi smiled apologetically. “These girls,” she said, “always shy. Not enough company here.”
Jinadasa kept staring at the kitchen door.
A WEEK LATER, Chandi was forced to admit that Jinadasa was nice. If he had a nasty side to him, Chandi hadn’t seen it, and he had been watching carefully.
Jinadasa had wondered during those first few days why Chandi and his mother and, to a lesser extent, his two sisters were so wary of him.
Then one evening, the Sudu Mahattaya had taken him aside and told him about Krishna, and Jinadasa had understood. It made more sense now, the guarded looks and the reserve.
Leela went out of her way to avoid Jinadasa.
“This girl,” Premawathi lamented to Disneris. “How are we going to find her a husband if she acts like a nun?”
“She’ll grow out of it,” Disneris said.
Premawathi raised her eyes heavenward and sighed.
“Have you noticed that Leela acts funny when Jinadasa is around?” Chandi asked Rose-Lizzie.
“Yes. I think she’s afraid of him,” Rose-Lizzie said.
“I do
n’t think it’s that,” Chandi said darkly.
“Then what is it?” Rose-Lizzie asked.
“I don’t know, but it’s not fear,” Chandi said.
“Then what is it?” Rose-Lizzie asked.
“You’re too young to know these things,” Chandi said in a superior way.
She threw a handful of water at him. “I hate it when you sound like your mother!”
“Well, who else’s mother would I sound like then?” he asked reasonably.
“Now you sound like my father.”
“At least I don’t sound like my father,” Chandi said thankfully.
“LOOK, THERE’S JINADASA,” Rangi said, pointing down the path.
“So what?” Leela asked, looking elaborately casual.
They were walking down to the workers’ compound to pick up some fresh eggs. Jinadasa was walking toward them.
“Nothing,” Rangi said, looking sideways at Leela. “I just saw him, that’s all.”
He stood in front of them. “Jinadasa,” Rangi said, “where did you go?”
“Do you have to know everything?” Leela muttered irritably.
“Oh, just down to the compound,” Jinadasa said, ignoring Leela.
“That’s where we’re going. To get some eggs,” Rangi said.
“You should have told me,” he said. “I would have saved you a trip.”
“It’s only a few yards, not the end of the world,” Leela said ungraciously.
“Well, anyway, enjoy your walk,” said Jinadasa.
Leela continued walking so fast that Rangi had to run to keep up with her.
“Leela Akki, stop!” she panted. “What’s the matter with you? You were so rude to Jinadasa and now you’re running like a wild horse gone mad!”
In spite of herself, Leela laughed. “Where do you get these expressions from?” she said. She sobered up abruptly. “Was I really rude to him?”
“Yes you were,” Rangi said honestly. “Why? You’re so good to other people, and he’s such a nice man.”
“I know,” Leela said, looking away. “I don’t know why I am like that with him. Amma scolded me the other day because of the way I spoke to him.”
They walked in silence down the hill until Rangi suddenly spoke. “Akki, do you like him?”
The Flower Boy Page 24
