by Roma Tearne
A bicycle!’ Alice said, astonished further by this day of surprises.
And she rushed full tilt towards it.
Then she stopped.
‘But I can’t ride,’ she wailed.
Ah! Yes, that’s a problem,’ agreed Bee seriously. ‘Well, someone’s got to teach you then. Now, I wonder who that might be!’
‘I’m not hungry, Amma,’ Sita was saying even before she sunk awkwardly down on one of the old planter’s chairs. ‘All I want is a cup of tea.’
Alice scowled. Why was her mother spoiling everything? Or rather, she corrected herself, why was the baby spoiling her birthday?
‘Sita,’ Kamala said, ‘you look exhausted. How can you go on like this? Think of the baby. Why didn’t you let your father collect Alice? And why don’t you stay the night now you’re here? Stanley can manage for a night, can’t he?’
But Sita was shaking her head in a way Alice recognised. Stubbornness was the thing she had given Alice in bucketloads, and stubbornness was written all over her own face now.
‘No, Amma, you know I don’t like him being alone. And after last night and the riots in our area, I must go back. You didn’t see what we saw; you don’t know what these people are really like. There were neighbours in the crowd who knew us, people we thought were our friends, the same as us. Singhalese, like me!’
Her voice was beginning to rise; Kamala put out her hand as though warding off her daughter’s fear.
‘How can I ever trust anyone?’
They surveyed the tea table in silence. Alice washed her hands in the bowl of water that the servant held out to her. Then she dried them on the soft cotton hand towel and started on the sandwiches. She was tense with waiting for her mother to go home. Guiltily she anticipated the evening with her mother gone and the moment when she had her grandparents all to herself. And then, forgetting about everything, she realised she was enormously hungry.
Ayio!’ Kamala said, pouring out the tea.
Two tea leaves floated on a brown sea in the cups.
‘It isn’t the riots,’ Bee told her, handing over his cup. ‘We shouldn’t place too much emphasis on them.’
His eyes had closed into narrow slits in the way Alice loved. It made him look like the picture of an owl in one of her books. Bee’s voice was noncommittal. It changed the atmosphere, taking the tension away from Sita’s face.
‘Human nature has no surprises. All the riots do is make it more obvious.’
‘Well, we all know it’s the fault of the British,’ Sita murmured. ‘It’s their mess.’ But she spoke sleepily, without conviction.
This was too much for her father.
‘Don’t talk to me about the British,’ he said, sitting up instantly, eyes flashing open, alert, as though sniffing out any stray British.
‘Now, Sita, don’t start him off,’ Kamala warned, but Bee waved his arm irritably.
‘They’ll pay for all this, all right. One day they’ll be called to account, just wait.’
Alice yawned. The conversation was going its usual way and she was losing interest.
‘Enough, enough, Benji,’ Kamala warned. ‘Nothing is going to change the past.’
She glanced sharply at her granddaughter’s face, reading it accurately.
And please don’t forget it’s Alice’s day today.’
‘Just one more thing,’ Sita said.
She hesitated, holding out her cup for more tea.
‘Stanley got the passports this morning.’
The silence was electric.
‘For all of you?’ Kamala asked bleakly.
‘Yes, of course!’
Alice saw her grandmother’s hand shake and the cup she was holding rattle on its saucer. The next moment the glass door opened and Alice’s aunt May walked in, followed by Esther and Esther’s mother Dias, in a flurry of birthday visitors, a rustle of birthday presents.
‘Happy birthday, Alice,’ Esther cried, giving her a kiss.
Alice looked at her with interest. Esther was chewing on something.
‘Many happy returns, darling,’ Aunty May said, handing her niece a small parcel. ‘It’s all the books you put on your list.’
‘My God! You’re a regular bookworm, child,’ Aunt Dias laughed, pinching her cheeks with her hand as though she was squeezing rubber out of a rubber plant. ‘She looks just like you, Sita!’
And she too handed Alice a small parcel.
‘Where’s Janake?’ Alice asked, seeing he was not with them, trying not to be disappointed.
‘He’s gone to his aunt’s,’ Kamala told her. ‘He’ll be back tomorrow.’
‘Oh!’ Alice said. She was disappointed.
‘Their passports have arrived, did you hear?’ Bee told the visitors grimly while Alice opened her presents. His voice was muffled as if he was somewhere far away.
Ayio!’ Kamala said again.
‘Oh, thank you, Aunty May,’ Alice said. ‘I wanted the new Secret Seven book! And the Wind in the Willows.’
‘Good! But don’t read it too fast!’
And look at these paints!’
Kamala was beginning to look as though she might cry.
‘Now,’ May said briskly, ‘I need some tea.’
‘Why did Janake have to go to his aunt’s?’
The servant handed round white china plates edged with gold. Aunty May gave everyone another change-the-subject kiss, but couldn’t resist one comment of her own.
‘Those bastards in the government have done this,’ she said under her breath.
Alice finished her piece of cake and reached for another.
‘There are bastards everywhere,’ she said matter-of-factly, making Esther giggle and May hoot with laughter.
‘Hear, hear!’ she said, clapping her hands.
Even Sita smiled a thin, watered-down smile. Bee’s shoulders shook.
‘Our birthday girl’s thought for the day!’ he chuckled.
His eyes were the colour of cloudy glass. The tension eased imperceptibly. Perhaps now they could get on with the business of enjoying her birthday, thought Alice. She was longing to try her bicycle. Sita leaned back in her chair, shutting her eyes, and once again without warning the moment became fixed in Alice’s mind, with the sea glimpsed through the doorway and her aunt May’s sari the colour of ripe mangoes.
‘Why don’t you children sit out on the verandah,’ May suggested.
‘I’m not a child,’ Esther frowned.
She went in to see the cook, to get a small handful of hot rice.
‘Aren’t you going to eat anything?’ Alice asked curiously when she returned and sat down on the step.
Esther rolled the rice up into a small ball and popped it into her mouth. Then she chewed it in silence. She was wearing her polka-dot dress and a pair of pretend sunglasses. Her hair was tied in a ponytail and she wore a brooch in the shape of a heart with Elvis’s face on it. Alice stared at her.
‘Why don’t you swallow the rice?’ she asked curiously after a while.
Boredom flitted across Esther’s face like a passing cloud.
‘Because it’s meant to be gum, silly. You don’t swallow gum!’
‘Why don’t you get some real gum, then?’ Alice challenged.
Esther gave her a withering look. Then she picked up her hoolahoop from the ground and began to swing it on her hips.
‘Elvis the pelvis,’ Alice said.
Everyone knew Esther was Elvis-mad and that the whole of her house was a shrine to him. Alice continued to gaze at her.
‘Why don’t you get some proper gum?’ she asked again.
‘They don’t sell gum at the kade,’ Esther said at last. And it’s too expensive at the hotel shop.’
‘Come on, children,’ May called out from the dining room. ‘Time to cut your cake, Alice.’
They sang ‘Happy Birthday’ and Alice blew out all nine candles in one go so she knew her wish would come true.
‘How much longer before the wedding, A
unty May?’ Esther asked.
If there was one thing Esther envied Alice for, it was having an aunt like May. Her own family consisted of just her mother and herself, for her father had died when she had been born. Esther had known the Fonsekas all her life and May with her large dark eyes had all the glamour of the film star Esther wanted to become when she grew up. May smiled and handed out the cake plates.
‘Three weeks and four days after the new baby arrives,’ she said, winking at her niece. ‘You’ll be the big sister then!’ she added, laughing at the expression on Alice’s face. ‘Don’t worry, darling, you’ll always be the eldest. The baby won’t count! Look at me, once a baby always a baby!’
May was ten years younger than Sita, less remote and easier to talk to. She worked as an English teacher in the boy’s school at the top of Mount Lavinia Hill. She was the only woman who taught there. Everyone joked that she had got the job because of her looks and that the masters were all a little in love with her. Even after the scandal of her sister’s elopement, no one had turned against May. She was too beautiful for that. Then a few years ago May had met Namil. He was from a well-respected Singhalese family and had been to the university in Peradeniya where he’d qualified as an engineer. Very soon Namil had fallen in love with her.
‘He’ll never be short of a good job,’ Alice’s mother had said wistfully when she heard.
Namil was very tall. Together, he and May made a striking pair. Esther was constantly admiring them.
‘You’re so lucky,’ she told Alice, ‘having an aunt like May. It’ll be such a stylish wedding.’
Aunty May is lucky that Namil is a Singhalese,’ Alice agreed. ‘Not like my dada.’
Startled, Esther raised her eyebrows.
‘Don’t go passing on such information to everyone, men,’ she said loftily. ‘Not in this day and age, or you’ll get into trouble.’
‘Alice!’ May called. ‘Don’t neglect your guests. They’re dying for more cake! Come and serve them.’
‘I’d better make a move,’ Sita announced without moving.
‘Why on earth can’t you stay the night?’ Dias asked.
Being both neighbour and family friend, she felt she could say those things others could not without giving offence.
‘It’s no use, Dias. I’ve already asked her,’ Kamala said.
There was an awkward pause. Sita shook her head without speaking and the conversation moved on in sharp staccato sentences overlaying each other. Every word seemed as heavy as the heat outside.
Are you going to the fair tonight, Alice?’ Esther asked.
‘Yes, yes,’ May called out, laughing at them. ‘It was meant to be a surprise, Esther! Namil and I are going to take you tonight, Alice.
It’s your birthday treat. Your second birthday treat in one day, you lucky girl!’
May came over to where they sat on the cool verandah beside the pots of ferns.
‘Are you going to live in England, then?’ Esther asked suddenly.
‘No, of course not!’
‘Oh! Why have you got a passport then?’
Alice didn’t know. Her father’s older brother lived in England. He had gone long before Alice was born.
‘I think he sent it,’ she said dubiously. As a present.’
‘You don’t give people passports as presents,’ Esther scoffed.
‘It’s always good to have a passport,’ May told them lightly.
‘Why?’ asked Alice, but May had turned and was taking Sita’s bag out to the car. There was a scraping back of chairs and the grown-ups came out on to the verandah. They no longer looked happy.
‘I think,’ Esther said softly, ‘you’ll find you are going.’
She spoke under her breath and Alice, glancing up at her mother, did not hear. Although she did notice that Sita had a funny, closed expression. It was the look that usually followed an argument. Her grandfather was frowning and staring at the ground.
‘Come, then,’ Bee said finally. ‘I’ll take you.’
He sounded cross.
‘Will Stanley be waiting for you at the station?’ Dias asked.
‘Oh yes,’ Sita replied. She spoke easily but Alice knew, from the way she spoke, that she was lying.
‘Can I learn to ride my bicycle now?’ she asked, kissing Sita good-bye.
‘Don’t wear your grandparents out,’ was all her mother said.
‘You must get out of your school uniform first,’ her grandmother added.
‘We must go too, child. Just look at the time,’ Dias announced, yawning. ‘Come on, Esther. If you’re going out tonight you must help me in the house first.’
‘I’ll be back soon,’ Bee called.
He turned to Alice and now he was smiling again.
‘So be ready,’ he warned. ‘We’ll go to the beach and I’ll teach you to ride your bike!’
Outside, the sea beckoned invitingly. It hissed and rolled restlessly, catching the last of the radiant light. Ahead of them, three white ships had positioned themselves against the horizon, and as the last train to Colombo hooted its way towards the station a small kite rose and fell languidly in the breeze.
Later, when he returned, Bee and Alice set off on foot, down to the sea.
‘Like in The Water Babies,’ said Alice, who had just finished reading the book.
‘Don’t be long,’ Kamala warned. And hold her hand when you cross the line.’
‘Yes, yes,’ Bee waved impatiently.
But then at the level crossing he stopped and took her hand, waiting and listening for the sound of any stray trains.
‘Just to keep your grandmother happy,’ he told her. ‘So you’ve finished The Water Babies, huh? You read that quickly’
Alice skipped beside him.
Aunty May has given me all the books I asked for,’ she said.
‘Good!’ he nodded. ‘You must read as much as you can. English is a beautiful language,’ he said thoughtfully. ‘It’s a language of grace and culture. We have been very foolish to confuse such a language with our government’s anti-British attitude.’
Alice yawned. This was the moment she had been waiting for. Going down to the sea with Bee. At last, she thought, wondering what they might find today. He was always finding her things on the beach to add to her collection of objects. Mostly it was glass that he found, but sometimes it was other things: driftwood and rusty bits of tin that made Kamala scream with horror.
The barrier was up. An old woman carrying two chickens crossed the lines. She beckoned them to cross with her.
‘Eney, eney,’ she called, showing betel-red teeth. Two boys on one bicycle rode across.
And then, at long last they reached the sands where several bigger boys shouted hello as they passed. Bee heaved Alice up on to the bike and began pushing.
‘Right,’ he said with a grin, ‘let’s go!’
They wobbled off.
‘Pedal, pedal,’ he shouted above the roar of the waves. ‘Keep going, faster! Faster!’
On and on they went, Bee breathlessly behind her. A train roaring past. There was spray against her face. She could hear Bee’s encouragement, as, head down, On and on they went, Bee breathlessly behind her. A train roaring past. There unmarked and very white. A half-buried shell flashed by. The wind ran through her hair, wet and heavy with water.
Am I doing it?’ she asked, but there was no reply.
Turning, she looked behind her and wobbled.
‘Watch out!’ Bee called too late as she went crashing into the water.
He was laughing now.
‘You stopped,’ he cried, going to help her. ‘I told you not to stop pedalling!’
He was still laughing as he pulled her up and righted the bicycle.
‘That’s enough for today,’ he said.
Her dress was soaking and her knee hurt.
‘Your grandmother will kill me!’
‘Oh, please, please,’ Alice pleaded, her eyes like saucers. ‘I don’t want to stop ye
t. I have to learn now!’
Bee hesitated. He was done for with Kamala, he knew.
‘Come on,’ Alice insisted, tugging his hand.
Bee laughed.
‘Oh, all right, all right, just one last time, then,’ he agreed. ‘It’s true. You have nearly got it. But this time, don’t look behind you, for God’s sake!’
Some of the boys had gathered round to watch. They knew Bee from his daily visits to the beach to buy fresh fish and talk to some of the fishermen. They were used to seeing Alice, too, had watched her learn to swim and now they wanted to see her learn to ride her bicycle. One of the boys whistled encouragingly and wheeled his own bike in the air, showing off. Alice ignored him, wishing Janake hadn’t gone away. She wasn’t going to admit defeat, not in front of these grinning idiots.
‘Ready? Let’s go!’
Once again the sound of the sea was close to her ear, mixed up with Bee’s footsteps thudding softly in the sand behind her, telling her to pedal faster. And then it was only the sound of the sea, insistent and haunting, that filled her head. She could go on this way forever, she thought, raising her head. Startled, she saw her grandfather was no longer behind her as the horizon righted itself in her sightline. So that finding she was riding the bicycle entirely by herself she laughed so loud and so much that she wobbled and fell off again.
It is evening. Alice can see the sea through the horses as they fly round and round. Gilded hooves, flying sea-spray that disappears to be replaced by the sky. Then they’re back, flying high, dipping low, back and forth. She sees Bee’s face as he chews on his pipe. He is waving at her. Music belts out; its beat riding the sea from side to side, swinging the fairground lights, the pink-and-green paper lanterns strung around the stalls. Round and round. There’s Esther eating candyfloss wearing her polka-dot dress. Even her ponytail swings as she waves at Alice before strolling off. Aunt May holds on to Alice tightly and laughs. Uncle Namil stands on the grass verge watching solemnly. He is still wearing his Colombo office clothes and doesn’t seem part of the fair at all. Maybe, thinks Alice, that’s why Aunty May is laughing so much. Alice throws her head back, feeling the wind running through her hair, the dress her aunt made, cool and lovely against her legs. Above her the stars blink in the vast tropical sky. I will never forget this, she thinks, shouting into the air that rushes by. She wants it to never end. Three kites fly lazily, flicking home-made tails, while the sound of the barrel organ is loud in her ears and the smells of roasting gram and fried fish and burnt sugar seemed to gather together and explode around her like Catherine wheels.
