The Flower Boy (25 page)

“Married people don't play,” Chandi said dismissively. “Anyway, we're too young.”

Rose-Lizzie relapsed into silence.

THEIR BIRTHDAYS CAME once more, and this time Anne organized a picnic. They were to go to Horton Plains and Chandi was beside himself with excitement when he heard. Everyone except Disneris was excited, for this was the first time they were going anywhere, all together.

Disneris had given up trying to make Premawathi and Chandi see sense and hardly even spoke to Chandi anymore, except to complain about his report cards or to urge him to study more.

On these occasions, he gave Chandi long pedantic lectures and Chandi dutifully listened. Premawathi would hear him and sigh. As a father, Disneris left a lot to be desired, tending to be more of an authoritarian than a confidant or friend. With the girls, he was a little more tolerant, but then he left their upbringing to Premawathi.

These days, Disneris rose early in the morning, helped Premawathi as much as he could and went to work. In the evenings, he pottered around the kitchen and retired to bed. The kitchen-step conversations were a thing of the past.

Premawathi sensed his dissatisfaction, and although she knew it was his own doing, she still felt guilty. He made no attempt to enjoy his children or her.

She often thought about the time when they were first married, when he was still funny and kind, when he would surprise her with a few sweets or a bunch of flowers picked from someone's garden.

Those days were long gone; she couldn't remember when he had last stroked her hair or surreptitiously slid his hand around her bare waist and squeezed her gently. Oh, the physical side of their marriage was still alive, but now it was a mechanical mounting that was more of a duty than a pleasure. At least for her.

Chandi too sensed that something in his parents had changed irreversibly and grieved for it. But he also realized that it was between his parents and that neither he nor his sisters could do anything about it.

He often wondered if it had anything to do with the Sudu Mahattaya, but his mother hardly ever spoke to him anymore, and even had Jinadasa take in his breakfast and tea these days.

Funnily enough, the Sudu Mahattaya seemed to have got over his distance with Chandi, and now asked him along when he took Rose-Lizzie for walks or even drives in the car. Chandi loved these times because the Sudu Mahattaya pointed things out and told them stories.

He patiently answered questions and explained things to them, but in an interesting and humorous way that made everything so much fun.

THE PICNIC WAS to be on Saturday. They would start early in the morning and spend the whole day on the plains.

Chandi and Rose-Lizzie were everywhere, listening eagerly as Anne gave instructions. “Premawathi, we'll have tongue and roast beef sandwiches, two roast chickens, some boiled eggs, a salad and perhaps some fresh fruit for dessert.”

Premawathi listened carefully and made mental notes. Then a thought struck her “What about the birthday cake, Podi Nona?” she asked.

“Oh of course!” Anne exclaimed. “How could I forget? And we need to count how many are going, Premawathi.”

Premawathi counted. “Sudu Mahattaya, Mr. Cartwright, Lizzie Baby, Chandi and you, Podi Nona. That's five.”

“What about you and Disneris and Leela and Rangi and Jinadasa and Ayah?” Rose-Lizzie demanded.

Premawathi stared. “We won't be going, Lizzie Baby.”

“Of course you will,” said Anne. “After all, it's Chandi's birthday too.”

Chandi beamed. “Will we take Appuhamy too?” he asked brightly.

“No, I don't think so,” Anne said. “I think he's too old for the trip.”

When Premawathi told Disneris, he was not at all enthusiastic. “Let the children go, Haminé,” he said. “We can stay at home and have a nice rest.”

Premawathi stared at him. “But I want to go,” she said. “It's our son's birthday too and if they are going to such trouble to make sure he has a good day, then the least we can do is be there with him.”

“Well, I don't think it's a good thing, this fraternizing with the family,” Disneris said. “Look at Chandi. His head is already turning from all this attention he's getting from them. Birthday parties! Who knows what he'll want next? We are poor people. We must not forget that.”

Premawathi looked at him for a long moment and then walked away, her heart heavy. The Disneris she knew had gone, replaced by a pessimistic snob, and she felt as though this conversation was some kind of an ending. She told herself not to be silly, not to let Disneris spoil the picnic for them all, but she couldn't shake off the feeling of gloom that assailed her.

Perhaps she had a premonition of what was to come.

ROBIN CARTWRIGHT HAD been given a vehicle for his use at Glencairn, an old but sturdy truck. John had only the silver car, so he borrowed a truck from Windsor, for the roads to Horton Plains were basic at best.

The night before their birthday, Chandi and Rose-Lizzie wandered around the garden too excited to sleep, although it was already past nine o'clock and they were making a very early start the next morning.

In the kitchen, Premawathi and the girls sliced bread and roasted chickens and carefully lowered the iced birthday cake into a big tin. It was a simple chocolate cake, a far cry from the elaborate cakes that Elsie used to have done in her days as Glencairn's mistress.

“I can't wait to eat the cake,” Chandi said. He swallowed. “See, my mouth is already watering.”

“Will we see bear monkeys?” Rose-Lizzie said.

“Maybe even lions,” Chandi said.

“Don't be silly. There are no lions in Ceylon.”

“Yes there are.”

“No there aren't.”

“Well there are leopards and that's almost the same thing.”

“Leopards have spots. Lions have manes,” Rose-Lizzie said loftily.

Chandi scowled. “You sound just like your mother.”

“No I don't!” Rose-Lizzie said defensively. “You're just saying that to be mean!”

“I'm not mean. You're mean,” Chandi said, walking ahead of her now.

She caught up and slipped her arm through his. “Let's not fight, Chandi,” she pleaded. “Not tonight. We don't want to be angry for the picnic!”

“Okay,” Chandi said equably.

They heard Ayah calling out to Rose-Lizzie and turned back toward the kitchen.

Rangi stood at the kitchen table and carefully arranged wafer-thin slices of roast beef on slices of bread. The bread was spread out on a clean newspaper and she had already buttered it and spread the mustard paste. She stared at the neatly cut slices and wondered why her father hardly ever spoke to her mother these days. Or to them. He was always shooting dark looks at Chandi and she knew Chandi had noticed. Why couldn't he just be happy? she wondered. Why couldn't she?

Premawathi glanced over and frowned. “Stop staring into space and finish making the sandwiches,” she said. “The bread will get dry laid out like that.”

Rangi obediently continued. “Amma?”

“Hmm?” Premawathi replied, not bothering to turn around.

“Shall I stay with Thaaththi tomorrow?”

Now Premawathi turned. “Why? Do you feel ill or something?”

Rangi lowered her eyes. “No, but I don't want him to be alone at home,” she said softly.

Premawathi's mouth tightened. “Neither do I, but he doesn't want to go. That doesn't mean you have to stay.”

“No, but—”

Now Premawathi was angry. “Rangi, I don't have time for this kind of ridiculous discussion. If you want to stay, then stay. But your brother will be hurt if you do.” She turned back to her chickens, her frame rigid with anger.

Rangi's eyes filled with tears. She bent her head to conceal them and they plopped sadly on the bread. She hadn't meant to make her mother angry.

Chandi burst into the kitchen and she looked up, forgetting that her cheeks were wet with tears. He came over to her immediately. “What's wrong? Why are you crying?”

She wiped her cheeks with the back of her hand. “It's the onions.”

He looked at the table. “What onions?” Then he looked back at her. “What happened?”

Premawathi sighed and came to Rangi. She put her arm about her daughter's slim shoulders. “Child, I'm sorry I got angry. It's just everything. Not you.”

Rangi nodded, but the tears fell faster now. Everything. Everything was wrong.

Chandi stood there looking from one to the other, wondering what had happened. Whatever it was, it was hopefully over now.

He reached up, kissed Rangi's cheek and went to bed.

After a while, Rangi washed her hands and went to bed herself, but she didn't sleep. She lay there and wondered what was happening. Although her tears had stopped by now, she felt a burning in her eyes and a tightness in her throat.

She heard Leela come in with their mother. “Look at these two,” Leela said crossly. “Spread out everywhere. There's no place for me.”

“Shhh. Just lay your mat somewhere and sleep, child. We're all tired and we have an early start tomorrow.”

Rangi stared at the blackness. Leela was wrong. There was a place for her. Suddenly, Rangi knew that Leela and Jinadasa would get over their differences and that their place would be together. It was too strong a premonition to be only a possibility.

Chandi would find his place.

It was she who didn't have a place. She didn't feel she belonged. Anywhere. In her family. At Glencairn. In Deniyaya.

Nowhere.

Her heart fluttered wildly like a trapped bird and she pressed her hand against her chest, trying to still it. Trying to free it.

chapter 23

THE SUN WAS JUST RISING BEYOND THE FLAT PASTURELAND, WHERE contented cows grazed peacefully. But the subdued early morning greens and pinks ran together in Chandi's vision as the ancient truck bounced its way over massive potholes and huge boulders that lay along the road like sly traps for the unwary.

It had been an hour since they had left Glencairn, and they had already stopped twice for Rose-Lizzie to rid herself of her breakfast. With every jarring bump, Anne was thankful that they hadn't brought Appuhamy along, who would surely have broken a few bones, if not died.

Chandi, Rose-Lizzie, Anne and Jinadasa were with Mr. Cartwright in his borrowed truck. Premawathi, Leela, Rangi and Ayah were with John. Disneris had decided to stay at home and look after the house and Appuhamy, despite everyone's efforts to make him come. John had even asked him personally, but he had smiled and demurred, blaming his sinuses.

Although she had argued with Disneris over his decision, Premawathi was secretly relieved. His long face and silent disapproval would have spoiled the day for Chandi.

Chandi hung out of the window, determined not to miss anything. Rose-Lizzie pushed and jostled so she could see too.

“Hang on!” Mr. Cartwright called out as the truck almost fell into a huge crater. They had turned off the road and into the forest. There was no road here, just a rough track that was bumpier than the road had been.

Chandi's insides felt funny and his bony bottom felt sore. Still, he refused to let the physical discomfort detract from the trip. The track narrowed so much that branches from the trees on either side brushed against the truck as they drove by, and Chandi and Rose-Lizzie hung out of the open back trying to grab hold of passing branches.

Suddenly, the truck stopped abruptly, making them all lurch. Rose-Lizzie turned green and held her hand to her mouth. They peered ahead and saw the other truck tilted crazily on its side.

“Yoohoo, Robin!” John hollered. “Get young Jinadasa and the rope and give me a hand. I seem to have fallen into a hole!”

They all jumped out and went to watch as Mr. Cartwright, John and Jinadasa heaved and lifted and tried to maneuver the truck out of the great hole it had fallen into, but it was no use. Its wheel was almost completely in the hole.

They tied the two vehicles together with the rope and then stood back as Mr. Cartwright tried to pull out the other truck.

“We'll need to give it a hand!” shouted John, and he and Jinadasa tried to lift the truck. “Chandi, come and help, there's a good fellow,” said John, and Chandi ran to help, lifting with all his might.

Finally, with a last massive lift and a great lurch, it emerged, apparently unscathed. All the women clapped and John solemnly shook hands first with Chandi and then with Jinadasa. “Well done, boys,” he said, and Chandi felt he would burst from pride.

Hoowa Hoowa Hoowa.

They looked around nervously. “Bear monkeys,” muttered John, “and quite close from the sound of them. Better get out of here.”

They hurried quietly to the trucks and started off again.

They passed huge trees festooned with monkeys, who chattered wildly and grimaced as they went by. Chandi and Rose-Lizzie made faces back at them.

They drove slowly through a swollen stream strewn with big boulders and water monitors, which looked like small logs. They stopped for a sambhur to sprint gracefully across the track and craned their necks to catch glimpses of exotic birds which suddenly took flight, disturbed by the noisy, smoke-belching vehicles.

Chandi, who was used to the wide open spaces of Glencairn, felt slightly claustrophobic at the closeness of the jungle they were passing through. He threw his head back and gulped in big breaths of air.

“Are you okay, Chandi?” Jinadasa asked softly.

Chandi nodded, annoyed that Jinadasa had seen. Although he had decided he liked Jinadasa, he was still wary of him and kept his distance.

Jinadasa didn't mind. He knew it was all to do with the Krishna thing and that Chandi would eventually get over it. His thin face puckered up in a frown as he remembered how Leela had insisted she go in the other vehicle although Premawathi had told her to go with Chandi.

He had fallen in love with her almost from the first moment he had seen her and he was too honest to conceal his feelings. Besides, why should he? It wasn't as if one of them was married, too young or old, or from a different class or even caste.

She treated him like a leper, deliberately avoiding him and flattening herself against the wall when he passed her in the corridor.

Yet, when she thought he wasn't looking, she would look at him with another expression. Her eyes got soft, and for a while, she would look like a young girl in love.

Jinadasa was confused.

IN THE OTHER truck everyone was also lost in thought.

Ayah had just heard that Gunadasa had cirrhosis. She wondered if it could turn fatal and how long it would take for him to die. She had suffered too much at his hands to feel anything but relief at the thought of his permanent removal from her life. His death would be her liberation.

The firewood man still came to Glencairn, but beyond long looks that spoke volumes, and casual conversations loaded with hidden meaning, nothing had transpired between them since the time Chandi had come upon them in the back garden. Krishna, with his veiled hints, had made her wonder in terror who else knew about her indiscretions. She had no doubt that Gunadasa, despite being on his deathbed, would kill her if he ever found out.

PREMAWATHI FORCED HERSELF not to turn her head, although her neck ached from stiffness. She had been given the front seat because she was the oldest, and had spent the entire journey gazing out her window.

If John spoke or pointed out something interesting on the road, she kept quiet and waited for one of the others to reply. She felt, rather than heard, him sigh with exasperation, but she didn't care.

The changing scenery passed her vision in a green blur. When John changed gears, she tensed. If he looked at her, which he did from time to time, the tiny hairs at the nape of her aching neck prickled with awareness.

JOHN SIGHED AGAIN, aware of her discomfort. He wondered if she realized that by ignoring him she was bound to arouse far more curiosity than if she treated him normally.

It had been several years since that fateful evening, and if he had thought time would make her less wary, he had been mistaken. If anything, each passing month had made her more tense, and now she was stretched as taut as a tightly strung wire, and in as much danger of snapping.

He had hoped that this outing would help relax her a little, but now he doubted it. He spotted a hill ahead and changed gears again, smiling wryly to himself as she flinched.

IN THE BACK, Leela was bounced up and down, sometimes so violently that her head hit the canvas roof above, but she didn't feel anything.

Since they had set off, she had sat silently cursing herself for not going in the other truck. She had stayed awake the previous night, imagining being in the confines of a vehicle with Jinadasa. When her mother had urged her to go with Chandi, she had refused because she was suddenly stricken by terror. Now, with all her heart, she wished she had agreed.

She remembered his disappointment and wanted to weep. Stupid fool, she berated herself silently. Stupid. Stupid.

Even though she had matured into a beautiful young woman with the body of a goddess, Leela was as inexperienced as a child when it came to men. Jinadasa was the first young man she had come across (Krishna didn't count because he was an animal), and she felt things for him that she had never felt before. Frightening, confusing things.

If Premawathi hadn't been so wrapped up in her own unhappiness, she might have noticed her daughter's confusion, read the telltale signs and advised her as a mother should.

As things were, she didn't.

It was left to Leela to deal with her first love.

RANGI SAT OPPOSITE Leela and tried to ignore the tension around her. She was perceptive, and that was her problem. Now, the unhappiness swirled and crashed around her like an angry sea, and although she tried to shut her mind to it, it kept intruding.

Her mother's tension. The Sudu Mahattaya's exasperation. Leela's silence. Ayah's despair.

She too was relieved that their father had chosen not to come, for if it was like this without him, what might it have been like with him? One more set of intrusive, unhappy thoughts to absorb like a helpless, unwilling sponge.

She ached with unhappiness, none of it her own.

She reached out and took Leela's hand. Leela looked surprised and slightly uncomfortable. They were not a demonstrative family.

She looked hard at Rangi and saw that her face was white and her lips were trembling. Rangi's hand gripped hers hard, the knuckles showing white.

“Are you okay?” Leela whispered.

Rangi gazed sightlessly at the rubber-matted floor of the truck. She showed no sign of having heard her sister.

“Rangi?” Leela leaned closer. She saw that Rangi was close to tears. “What's wrong? Are you feeling sick?” she asked worriedly. “Shall I ask the Sudu Mahattaya to stop the car?”

Rangi shook her head violently. She wanted to get this trip over with, not prolong it in any way. She made an effort to compose herself and turned to look out the window.

WITHOUT WARNING, THEY broke out of the forest and onto the plain itself. The change in scenery was dramatic, for after the close, secretive forest, the plain was like a soul laid bare. A stricken soul at that, for although the vastness was exhilarating, the grasses were a strange greenish yellow, punctuated here and there by twisted, stunted trees.

They looked like tied-up people straining to break free, Chandi thought, looking at them with disquiet.

They saw winding streams full of silver trout, and far away in the distance, the home of Thomas Farr, the British explorer and naturalist. It was the only building on the plains. John didn't know him but had heard he was somewhat eccentric and preferred his own company to that of others. Apparently he spent his days exploring the plains, documenting the wildlife, and only came down to Nuwara Eliya about once a month for supplies.

John envied him.

After about half an hour of driving, they stopped because the track stopped. From here, they would walk.

Chandi would never forget that walk as long as he lived. They walked up and down the rolling plains, stopping to look at strange clumps of flowers and sudden streams that cut the long grasses like silver knives. It was like another world. Rose-Lizzie and he ran ahead of the others and then threw themselves down on the grass and waited for them to catch up. The sky was cloudless and the wind whistled softly as it blew past their ears.

They finally reached the belt of trees at the edge of the plain.

They entered the forest again, and although all they saw were exotic butterflies and birds, the animals were there. The girls giggled nervously and the men looked about uneasily as the chirping of birds ceased abruptly. After a minute or two, they heard the roar of a leopard quite close by. They heard bear monkeys too, large numbers of them calling out at the same time.

“They won't come close. There are too many of us,” John said reassuringly, but their steps quickened nonetheless.

John told them that people usually brought pots and pans and banged them all the way down the track to scare off wild animals. Premawathi wished someone had told her before. But as it was, the children's chatter was enough.

They emerged out of the trees and into rolling grass-covered hills once more. They were heading for World's End, a sheer drop of several thousand feet. Clouds of mist hung low, sometimes skimming the tops of the hills. The sea was several thousand feet somewhere below.

World's End was also locally known as Lover's Leap, because at least twice a year a star-crossed couple threw themselves over the edge into another life where the stars were more in their favor. Often, they wouldn't even make it to the bottom and their broken bodies would be found hanging off a tree or lying in a deceptive embrace on a rocky ledge.

No one knew why nature made places like World's End.

For picnickers to picnic at.

For lovers to leap off.

Or perhaps it was made for this very day.

John called a halt and they sat down under the shade of a huge, unfamiliar tree. The walk had made them all tired and hungry, so the girls, led by Ayah, began to unpack the picnic baskets. Premawathi, uncharacteristically, sat and watched.

She wished she could relax and enjoy the day but she had been conscious of a vague feeling of unease, which she had initially put down to Disneris's absence, then to John's nearness. It was one or the other, she thought wryly, closing her eyes against the sunshine.

John and Mr. Cartwright lay down and chatted idly, and Chandi and Rose-Lizzie ran off to explore, with stern cautions about World's End and wild animals ringing in their ears. They gathered stones for the collection at home, and flowers for Premawathi.