by Roma Tearne
‘Well, that should suit Thornton, then,’ Myrtle said. She laughed hollowly.
Grace stopped eating. She was no longer hungry.
‘He’s a poet! He can’t do any old job,’ protested Frieda.
No one seemed to hear her. Frieda felt like crying. She wished Thornton were here; she loved his cheerfulness. She wished her sister wasn’t at the Conservatoire; she missed her terribly. I hate Myrtle, she thought, glancing at her mother. Grace looked around the table. She too wished Thornton were present, with his uncomplicated cheerfulness and his easy affection.
‘We must stay calm,’ she said at last. ‘There’s no point in letting all this talk of civil trouble upset us. Nothing has happened. It will be all right,’ she added, with a certainty she did not feel.
Later that evening, after the servants had cleared the plates, she went out into the garden. The loudspeakers had stopped spewing out their propaganda and the sound of the sea could be heard again for the first time that day. Across the city, as the Independence Day celebrations began, fountains of fireworks rose and sparkled in the darkening sky. The scent of jasmine drifted towards her on the cool breeze and mingled with the faint smell of the sea. Grace walked to the end of the garden where the coconut trees rustled and whispered in the grove. Vijay was out again tonight. He had gone to a meeting organised by a group of Tamils from Trincomalee. Grace had not wanted him to go, but he had told her, in the future, the Tamils would need to stick together. She heard the sound of baila music somewhere in the distance. Small lights twinkled in the trees beyond the coconut grove. The Burgher family were having a party. What was there to celebrate? Grace wondered. She would have liked to slip out, to go and find Vijay, but in the last week she had suddenly become conscious of Myrtle watching her. Every time Grace had come back from the city Myrtle had stared at her, meaningfully.
‘I wish she would leave,’ Grace had told Vijay. ‘I can’t ask her to go but I don’t want her living with us any more. She hates me!’
Vijay had not taken her seriously. He could not imagine anyone hating Grace. Grace, however, remained uneasily watchful. She had tried talking to Aloysius about Myrtle but he too had dismissed her fears.
‘She’s harmless, darl. What’s the matter with you? Of course she doesn’t hate you! That business before we got married was long ago. She’s forgotten about it. She wouldn’t be here if she hadn’t.’
But Grace was no longer so sure.
Having retired to her room after dinner Myrtle took out her diary. Grace had done her disappearing act and Aloysius would undoubtedly be drinking himself into a stupor. There would be no interruptions.
October 8. Aloysius left work today and the de Silvas will now be in a serious financial mess. So, where has all their privilege got them? It’s true they still have some influence, should it be needed, but they’re no longer wealthy in the way they once were. When all is said and done, this is a Tamil family. It will take more than a Sinhalese surname to change that! They look Tamil. And the head of the family is a perfect drunk! What a liability. One wrong word and he’ll cause trouble. Tonight, Grace managed to stop him making a fool of himself over the election vans but how long can she go on stopping him? Poor, useless Aloysius can’t see beyond his bottle. Perhaps it is time for me to think of leaving, going back to Jaffna? Perhaps it might be safer there?
She paused and gazed grimly out of her window. The stars were out. Once, her cousin had had everything. Now, however, the planets were moving, they were changing houses. Life did not stay the same forever.
Walking back to the house Grace decided she would begin a novena tonight. She had no control over Aloysius, but this did not bother her. It was Vijay she was thinking of. Last week, he had lost his job at the silk merchants. The manager was new; he was a Sinhalese man. He had told Vijay, since the war finished, cutbacks were necessary in the silk business. Naturally he was sorry to lose Vijay, but, he had shrugged, things weren’t so good for small businesses any more. He would not look at Vijay as he spoke. Later on, Vijay told Grace, he found the other staff would be remaining at Maya’s. They were all Sinhalese. Grace had been speechless with anger. She had wanted to go to the silk merchant and talk to him. But Vijay would not let her.
‘To think of all the business I gave that man,’ she cried. ‘I’ll never shop there again.’
‘Forget it,’ Vijay had said. ‘I’ll find another job.’
I will say a novena for him, thought Grace, staring at the sky. I will go to church especially for him, tomorrow.
Somewhere in the distance a train hooted. Grace shivered. She heard the sound of the gate shut behind her. It was Thornton coming home. In a few weeks Alicia would be graduating at the Conservatoire and they would be all together once more. I must not despair, she thought firmly. Faith was what she needed. Turning towards his footsteps, with a small smile of gladness she waited for her favourite son to walk up the path.
The concert hall, controlled by the last of the Westernised elite, was packed. They arrived late. Heads turned as they took their seats. The de Silva family out in full force for the occasion were very striking. Thornton watched the audience with interest. This is how it will be one day, he thought going into his favourite daydream, when I am famous! This is how they will come to hear me read my poetry. He felt a little nervous on his sister’s behalf. Frieda too was nervous. She had gone to Mass that morning to pray for Alicia. Frieda had been longing for this evening. Weeks and weeks of longing. A lifetime seemed to have passed since her sister had left home. Frieda had never stopped missing her. Now, at last, Alicia would be returning. We’ll be able to be together, thought Frieda happily, her heart beating with joy. We’ll be able to talk properly instead of her constant rushing backwards and forwards. Crossing her fingers she watched the stage expectantly, waiting for Alicia to appear.
Christopher moved restlessly in his seat. After the concert, he was going to see Kamala. He had decided to teach her to read in English. It had only just occurred to him to do this and he was looking forward to seeing the expression on her face when he told her. Jacob was deep in a conversation with a man from work. The Tea Board had been taken over by the Sinhalese, it was not run as efficiently as when the English had been there, but Jacob did not mind. His job was secure enough. He spoke Sinhalese and was generally liked. Besides, what did he care? He was still saving up for his passage to England.
‘Jacob has lots of friends among the Sinhalese,’ remarked Aloysius in a benign mood, watching his eldest son. ‘How does he do it?’
‘Oh look, there’s Anton Gunesekera,’ said Thornton excitedly. ‘He’s from The Times. Shall I tell him about my poetry?’
Idiot, thought Christopher.
‘There’s a girl staring at you, Thornton,’ Frieda said, giggling.
Happiness bubbled up in her. At last, sang her heart. The three years were over. Hurray! They would all be together again. Forever and ever. Her lovely family.
‘She’s been looking at you for ages,’ she told Thornton, happily.
‘Well, there’s a surprise,’ said Myrtle. ‘Let’s hope she’s rich!’ She laughed at her own joke.
The auditorium was buzzing. Proud parents, talent scouts, even the national newspapers were here. Thornton grinned with delight. It was all so thrilling. The Director of the Conservatoire came over to them.
‘Welcome, welcome, Grace, Aloysius,’ he beamed. ‘How lovely to see all of you here together, supporting Alicia. I promise you there’s a wonderful treat in store for you this evening.’ He rubbed his hands together. ‘Drinks backstage afterwards, don’t forget.’
Aloysius hadn’t forgotten. He watched the Director’s receding back and then, observing Grace’s annoyed expression, he burst out laughing.
‘That fellow’s keen on you, darl!’ he told her.
Aloysius too was relaxed tonight. Looking around the concert hall with unusual pride he thought how beautiful his wife looked. They sat for a while longer, fanning themselves with thei
r programmes. Then without warning the lights dimmed and the noise subsided. The first item was a Beethoven trio. Aloysius sat up, instantly alert. He knew the piece well.
‘Good!’ he said afterwards, above the applause, as the musicians took a bow. ‘Well, quite good, a difficult choice, really. For their age, I mean. Don’t you think, darl? It’s a difficult piece.’
Grace agreed. Myrtle looked at them, at their bent heads, and felt a knife twist in her. It had been music that had first brought them together, long ago.
‘Here we sit waiting for our daughter to appear!’ Aloysius remarked, but he was looking at Grace. How radiant she is, he thought, genuinely surprised. ‘No different than on the day I first set eyes on you!’ he told her, loudly.
Myrtle winced. Yes, thought Grace, sadly, aware of the look, you think I’m someone who has everything.
‘We should go out more often, darl,’ Aloysius said. He was in an expansive mood. ‘Now I’ve retired, now I’ve more time. D’you remember the concerts your father used to put on?’
She nodded. All she had wanted then was him, and his children.
‘Of course, these Sinhalese philistines might stop the concerts,’ Aloysius continued, unable to resist the thought. ‘They’re bound to see Western music as part of the British Empire, just like the language!’
Jacob sighed, pointedly. Grace seemed not to hear. She was lost in thought, engulfed by a sudden wave of sadness, an unspeakable loneliness. Vijay would never share this part of her life. Bending her head, she stared with unseeing eyes at her programme.
‘Alicia has become more and more like you,’ Aloysius burbled on.
Myrtle, unable to stand any more of such remarks, turned her head away. Must be the thought of the backstage party, she decided, sourly.
In the end, thought Grace, as she waited for Alicia to appear, I am alone. Perhaps after all the Buddhists were right and, ultimately, one was always alone. But, as she waited, musing over these things, her face softened with longing, the lights dimmed again and there she was, on the stage. Slim, beautiful Alicia. Poised and very calm, her long hair was pinned up, making her appear strangely older. A replica of her mother, yet not quite so. The other de Silvas, watching her, gasped. Is this my daughter? thought Grace shaken, astonished, forgetting everything else. For Alicia was playing Schubert. In a way they had never heard her play before, with an effortless passion they had not known she possessed. Revealing something about herself none of them had noticed. Had it always been present? Perhaps she had always played in this way; maybe it simply had slipped their attention in the bustle of everyday life. The sounds fell perfectly, parting the darkness as though it were a path, pausing, running on, lifted by Alicia’s fingers, cascading into the silent hall, until finally they rose and floated to rest, gently, somewhere above them in the darkness. Where had such music come from? Will she live her life as she plays the piano? Grace wondered, transfixed.
She brought the house down. The applause, when it came, flooded the concert hall. Nothing matched her after that.
‘Brava!’ the audience shouted when she re-appeared at the end. ‘Brava! A star is born!’
People were staring at the de Silvas. Flashbulbs exploded like flowers.
‘Tomorrow,’ mouthed the music critic Anton Gunesekera, looking at Grace, pointing to his notebook, ‘buy the papers tomorrow!’
So young, everyone said. Such talent! Astonishing! Aloysius looked at his wife, his eyes shining, visibly moved. They were both speechless. United for once, thought Myrtle, bitterly. Thornton was writing furiously on his programme. Christopher, glancing at him, burst out laughing.
‘Not another bloody poem,’ he said, but the applause drowned his words. His own hands ached with clapping.
‘Come on,’ Aloysius shouted boisterously over the noise. He waved them onwards. It was so long since they had something to celebrate. ‘Backstage, everyone. Come on, come on. I always knew she was talented. You see, darl,’ he told his wife, ‘I always said she should study at the Conservatoire!’
Grace felt laughter explode in her. The tensions of the last few weeks, the new independence, her daughter’s music, all of it, gathered in her, making her eyes shine with unshed tears.
Backstage, all was noisy celebration. Alicia stood among a crowd of fellow students holding a spray of orchids. The de Silva children were startled. Was this their sister, this self-assured, beautiful stranger? Shyly they watched. It was in this way that Sunil Pereira first caught sight of her.
‘My name is Sunil,’ he said above the noise, daringly, having fought his way towards her in the crowd. ‘I sent you those.’
He pointed at the flowers she held. Alicia, delighted, took the hand he offered.
‘The Schubert was beautiful,’ Sunil added.
He hesitated, not knowing how to go on. He felt overwhelmed by the sight of this girl, filled with an unaccountable joy. He was unable to do more than hold her hand.
‘Hello, Miss de Silva,’ said another voice. ‘I am Ranjith Pieris, Sunil’s friend.’
Ranjith Pieris was older than Sunil. Putting his arm around his friend, he grinned. Then he too shook Alicia’s hand.
‘Don’t believe a word he says, will you? Sunil’s a philistine about music. No, really,’ he added as Alicia laughed. ‘Truthfully! I’m telling you, he’s completely cloth-eared! What he really means is you are beautiful. Now, although I would agree with that, I thought you played magnificently, as well!’
Ranjith Pieris winked teasingly and Alicia blushed. She opened her mouth to speak but Ranjith continued, making Alicia laugh a little more.
‘As you can see, my friend is unable to speak for himself. Fortunately for me he’s lost his voice! So, may I use this rare opportunity to invite you to the Mount Lavinia dance next week?’
From the corner of her eye Alicia could see Aloysius. But where was her mother? She smiled again, fanning herself, dropping the spray of orchids, which Sunil bent and retrieved for her.
‘Why don’t you come and meet my family?’ she asked him, starry-eyed.
Her mother was deep in conversation with the Director of the Conservatoire. Alicia waved urgently trying to catch her attention. And that was when she saw Frieda. And Thornton and Jacob and Christopher, all together in an awestruck group, all looking uncomfortable. She burst out laughing. Tonight she felt as though she had wings.
Aloysius advanced towards his daughter, beaming. He had noticed Sunil Pereira when he had first walked in. Why, the boy looked as though he was in a trance. Hmm, thought Aloysius. A Sinhalese boy! It could have been worse. His eyes narrowed with interest but he kept his thoughts to himself.
‘Splendid! Splendid!’ he said out loud.
And having kissed and congratulated his daughter, he asked Sunil what he did for a living. Sunil hardly heard him and it was left to Ranjith Pieris to speak to Aloysius.
‘We both work for the External Trade Office,’ Ranjith said.
‘How interesting!’ Aloysius nodded. Civil servants, he thought, pleased. Well, well, how very interesting. I may be an old dog, but I can still spot a winner, when I see one. How fortunate, they were fluent both in Sinhalese and in English.
‘So,’ he asked, casually, ‘you work in our new government, huh? How d’you find it there? Now that the British have gone?’
Christopher frowned. His father was looking shifty. ‘What’s he up to, now?’ he muttered to Jacob.
Aloysius was thinking furiously. Being in the new government meant access to British whisky and British cigarettes. Aloysius was sick of arrack and unfiltered Old Roses. Being in the government meant better rations and a superior quality of rice. With his eyes firmly on the main chance, he watched Sunil talking to Alicia. His daughter, he observed, with a growing sense of well-being, had changed in the last three years. The promise of her childhood good looks appeared to have come to fruition. Until now her life had been filled exclusively with her music. She had spent her days in a dreamworld hardly straying from the
confines of her Bechstein. Never mind, thought Aloysius, delightedly, all this was about to change. Tonight had brought the first public recognition of her talent. What else had it brought? Seeing his wife approaching, he waved, excitedly.
‘Darl,’ he cried, ‘come and meet Sunil Pereira.’
And without a moment’s hesitation, before his wife could comment, he invited this courteous young man home. The romance, for clearly it was to be just that, was to be encouraged.
‘He seems very nice,’ Grace admitted later, a little doubtfully. Left to herself she would have waited a while before issuing any invitations. ‘Aren’t we being a bit hasty though?’ she ventured. ‘Perhaps we should find out a bit more about him first? Her future is just beginning and this is only the first one.’
‘Nonsense, she’s the perfect age, darl,’ said Aloysius, looking sentimentally at her. ‘The same age as you were when your father gave me your hand.’
Yes, thought Grace, sharply, and look what a mess I made. But she kept her thoughts to herself.
‘Why do I have to be there when he visits?’ complained Jacob, who had planned to work overtime. ‘I don’t have anything to say to him.’
‘Oh for heaven’s sake, Jacob,’ Aloysius replied, annoyed, ‘show some family solidarity, will you?’
The day after Alicia’s graduation the newspapers were full of reviews of her performance. Her talent, her youth, her future, all these things were suddenly of interest. Already she had been offered two concerts.
‘Beethoven and Mozart,’ she said, in a panic, ‘all in a month. How will I learn them?’
The de Silvas were staggered. Overnight, Alicia had become something of a celebrity. A photographer came to the house and her picture appeared in a music magazine. The family felt as though they were seeing her for the first time. And suddenly there was an admirer as well. Two more weeks went by. Sunil Pereira came to call. He had thought of nothing else but Alicia since the concert. He waited, impatient for the visit, a prey to Ranjith Pieris’s teasing. He hardly slept, dreaming constantly about her.
