Bone China (11 page)

‘Easy!’ he said. ‘Easy, sister!’ and he swooped down without warning on the metal plate on the floor. The light glinting on it had caught his attention. He began to peck it, cooing tenderly.

Myrtle went berserk. She had always hated Grace’s pet. Now, confused by its presence in her room, she snatched up the metal plate, advancing towards him with gritted teeth.

‘Bloody bastard, bloody nuisance,’ she screamed. ‘I’m going to kill you. I’ve wanted to kill you for a long time. Come here!’ She chased him around the room, hitting out, almost catching him.

‘Come here, you bugger,’ she shouted, attempting to grab at his tail feathers.

Jasper was entranced. Never had he had so much success, so much flattering attention. Retreating to a point above the ceiling fan, he watched Myrtle. He sent down little presents that splattered onto the floor. He gave her his best saw-drill
impersonation, he whistled the bit from
The Magic Flute
, he barked once or twice. By now Myrtle was weeping. Her room was wrecked. Grace and Aloysius, hearing the noise, came hurrying to her door. Quickly, hiding the plate, Myrtle let them in. The sight astonished them.

‘Hello,’ said Jasper, looking as pleased to see them as a mynah bird can. ‘Good morning! Hello?’ he asked, and he glided gracefully around the room. Grace, in spite of herself, felt her face twitch slightly.

‘Jasper!’ she said, adding weakly in case there was some mistake, ‘It’s Jasper. What’s he doing here?’

‘Enough!’ screamed Myrtle. ‘I have had enough of this family,
enough
of the way I am treated, enough of being used. Enough, enough, enough!’ she shouted, shaking her head so her hair flew all over her face. ‘Used and abused by everyone,’ she screamed, unable to stop now, ‘even the bloody bird. Look at me.
Just look at me!
’ And she stood, arms outstretched magnificently, a crucifix with bird shit running down her face.

‘The bird’s a damn nuisance,’ agreed Aloysius, wishing he could have a whisky. Life seemed to be one long crisis at the moment. His wife was depressed, his youngest son had almost been killed, his eldest daughter was leaving them, everything was changing. Nobody had any fun any more. Everyone made such a fuss about trivial things. He could
kill
for a drink. And after that he would willingly kill Jasper. Grace, however, would have none of it. She soothed her cousin, called for the servant to clean the room, encouraging Myrtle to have another shower, promising to catch Jasper.

‘Shiny,’ said Jasper helpfully. ‘Hello, Shiny.’

‘We should have him put down, darl,’ said Aloysius, who was beginning to think the bloody bird would outwit all of them. Outlive them too, by the looks of it, God, did he need a drink!

‘Shiny,’ said Jasper again. ‘Hello, Shiny.’

‘Jasper!’ said Grace softly, looking up at him, to Aloysius’s utter astonishment, with a curious warmth to her voice, the first he had heard in months. Aloysius stared at her.

‘Jasper,’ she said again. ‘You’re a
very
naughty boy!’

Jasper, hearing the change in her voice, flew experimentally towards her and perched on the foot of Myrtle’s bed.

‘No,’ he agreed. And making a whirling sound, like the grandfather clock being rewound, he sailed swiftly out of the window and into the plantain tree outside.

T
HEY CAME FROM AFAR TO THE WEDDING,
like wise men bearing gifts. Uncle Innocent and Prayma, Auntie Angel-Face and the girls. Sarath and Mabel, Anthony and Coco with their own little bevy of children. There were others too, from Toronto and Perth, from Calcutta and Lahore, and Grace’s old childhood friend from Glasgow. There were the Sisters of St Peter and St Paul who had come all the way from Stratford-upon-Avon, and there were the old white planters on their way to a World Trade Fair in Melbourne, stopping off to have a bit of light entertainment at Aloysius’s daughter’s wedding.

‘Becoming something of a pianist!’ they said.

‘Quite famous, I hear.’

‘How did the old boy manage it?’

‘Healthy neglect. Or, more probably, it was the doing of that stunning wife of his, what’s her name?’

It was worth a detour, they said, pleased to be asked. Aloysius always knew how to throw a party. There were other less colourful, more predictable guests, who came. Local people, neighbours, people who came to settle old scores, wanting to
see how the de Silvas were faring. Drinking chums of Aloysius, friends of the children. But the most eccentric, the noisiest came from afar, with their huge suitcases laden with clothes for the big day, presents for the bride and groom, and of course whisky for the father of the bride. Depending on their relationship to the de Silvas they stayed either with them or in guest houses nearby. It was rumoured that the Prime Minister himself would be at the church service and maybe, for a little while, at the reception too. Aloysius was delighted.

‘We’ll need to buy much more champagne,’ he informed Grace. ‘I’ll ask Sunil. He can get it on the black market. It won’t be cheap, but only the best will do.’ Grace did not disagree. Of late she went along with whatever he said. No one looked closely at Grace; they were all too busy. She seemed her old self at last, worrying about the catering and the guests. Had they
really
invited so many? What had Aloysius been thinking of? The cook was sulking because two new cooks from upcountry had been hired.

‘If the Lady Grace wants coolies to cook for her then I am leaving,’ she announced.

Myrtle, writing her diary, smirked. She was still smarting after Jasper’s attack.

December 21. My best sari is completely ruined. No amount of cleaning can remove the stain of bird shit. Grace thought it was very funny. Oh I knew what she was thinking, she tried to be sympathetic, she tried her sweet voice on me, but I’m not fooled by it. Nor am I fooled by my dear cousin’s jollity. I can see what no one else can. I can see that the preparations, the guests, the family, all of it is a huge effort for her. She’s trying to hide it but there’s no fooling me. I intend to get to the bottom of whatever it is that’s the matter. Yesterday I spoke to Mr Basher who’s suggested, as the results of the last card reading were
inconclusive, I should get G’s horoscope redrawn. Well, we shall see. Meanwhile, I have to suffer all these wretched visitors; relatives I haven’t seen for years and can’t stand, especially that woman Mabel.

The relatives were not worried. It was true Grace looked a little strained but they agreed this was perfectly understandable.

‘She’s losing her eldest daughter; she’s losing little Alicia,’ they said affectionately.

‘Of course she looks tired,’ said Prayma. ‘What d’you expect!’

‘Besides, she
still
looks lovely.’

Some even thought, people like Uncle Innocent and Auntie Angel-Face and Coco, that Grace actually looked
lovelier
than ever. Yes, they argued, Grace looked more beautiful than on her own wedding day, and they should know, they’d been there! And off they went reminiscing about
that
wedding,

‘Aloysius so handsome, he hadn’t discovered the drink yet,’ remembered Auntie Angel-Face, screaming with laughter and slapping Uncle Innocent on the back.

‘Don’t forget Benedict!’ Coco remembered, smiling.

Ah, yes! How proud he had been of his motherless girl, cherished for so long, gliding on his arm. A vision, such a vision of loveliness.

‘Yes, a
vision
,’ shouted Prayma, to Uncle Innocent who was getting a little deaf. Those were the days, weren’t they? When Benedict’s cooks produced the most wonderful Portuguese
broa
, and
pente frito
, the likes of which had never been tasted since.

‘Do you remember the shoe-flower sambals?’ asked Coco, starting up a whole hour of ‘do-you-remembers’. Then it was time to go to evening Mass. Did they have a Mass in the evening here, darling?

The house party to the wedding meandered on. It was close
to Christmas, hot but not unbearable. The rains were still falling. The jasmine climber continued to bloom much to Myrtle’s amazement, and Jasper still remained at large. Grace had given up trying to get him back into his room off the hallway.

‘He has discovered the delights of independence!’ said Uncle Innocent.

‘With none of the responsibilities,’ laughed Prayma.

‘Well,’ said Uncle Innocent, ‘that will only come through a process of evolution and growth.’

‘No, no, no, Innocent, you are wrong! The people in this country have not evolved for four hundred years. They have forgotten how,’ said Auntie Angel-Face.

‘Come on, Amma!’ said Sarath, feigning despair. ‘Jasper’s just a bird, poor bugger.’

‘But what a bird!’ said Sunil, walking in just at that moment, smiling at his new relatives. A cry of delight went up among the aunts.

‘Sunil!’ shrieked Auntie Angel-Face, beaming at him. ‘Where’s your bride? How is she treating you today? Will she make a good wife? That’s the question on all our lips!’

‘I say, Sunil,’ said Anthony seriously, ‘shall we all go to the Galle Face Hotel tonight? You, me, Jacob, Thornton, Chris? No? What d’you say? Have a few drinks, men, meet some people?’

‘Aiyo, yes!’ said Auntie Angel-Face. ‘Good idea. Why don’t you boys all go out together? What fun.’

‘Who are these fellows you are so keen to meet, Anthony?’ Uncle Innocent asked.

‘Well, who do you think, Innocent? Girls of course! These are Sunil’s last days of freedom aren’t they? He’s allowed to roam like Jasper.’

They all roared with laughter, finding it hugely funny that sweet little Alicia, who they had last seen running around in a
sundress and sandals, teasing her brothers, having her face pinched because she looked so delicious, should have gone and grown up and become so talented and now have this fully grown handsome fiancé. Clever, clever little Alicia to get such a handsome beau!

Myrtle watched the relatives from a safe distance. She found it astonishing that they could make such a fuss over the dark polecat Sunil, as she privately called him. She watched them teasing Alicia. Making her play Mozart, making her laugh, dancing around the piano, singing, until she begged for Thornton to rescue her. Hah! Thornton, thought Myrtle grimly, I’m watching
him
. Thornton, when he was in, became the life and soul of the group. But Thornton had often some mysterious errand, some urgent business that he hurried to attend to. So what was Golden Boy up to? wondered Myrtle.

‘He’s a busy man, you know,’ said his cousins.

‘Too busy to get a job,’ said Jacob sarcastically.

Thornton smiled good-humouredly and played rock and roll on the piano. It was clear Mabel was smitten, and Thornton, charming them all as usual, picking up whenever Grace seemed to flag, played on. Even Jacob could see he had his uses on occasions like these. It let everyone else off the hook. The cousins had been away from the island for so long they wanted to do everything. Drink king coconuts, go for a swim, wander about the city having their horoscopes made, look for girls. Thornton was their man. He was their appointed guide, their chief entertainer. When he was there of course.

December 22
, wrote Myrtle.
It is very curious that no one comments on Thornton’s behaviour of late. I’ve noticed he makes a great deal of noise when he’s in the house in order to cover up the fact that he’s often out. I swear he’s up to something. Yesterday I noticed he came home in a very great rush. Then he managed
to exhaust everyone in ten minutes before he went out again, leaving them in a state of confusion. I’ve always thought that he’s a clever devil underneath all that sweetness that G’s so obsessed with. Just like the bloody bird that now flaps against my bedroom window all the time.

Jasper, of course, was a nightmare. Aloysius had had mesh put up on Myrtle’s window to keep him out because, for some unfathomable reason, Jasper was fascinated with her room. Neither Grace nor Thornton nor any of the younger children could get within striking distance of him. Somehow he evaded all attempts at capture.

‘He always manages to slither out of trouble,’ complained Aloysius, loudly, after a particularly difficult chase around the garden. ‘I always said Jasper possessed native cunning,’ he added, making Auntie Angel-Face hoot with laughter. ‘Now you fellows can detect it for yourselves!’

The relatives found all this hugely entertaining. They were here to have a good time and would have been easily pleased no matter what, so Jasper was merely an added bonus.

‘I say, Jasper,’ said Uncle Innocent, ‘come here, men, I want to tell you a secret.’

‘No!’ said Jasper from the middle of the plantain tree.

‘Come on, men!’ said Anthony. ‘Come on, let’s take some arrack together, hah?’

Jasper only narrowed his eyes, making his favourite saw-drill sound from the branch above their heads.

‘He’s a clever fellow, you know,’ said Uncle Innocent. ‘A bit like a terrorist. Cunning too.’

‘Perhaps,’ said Auntie Angel-Face, ‘perhaps he is a bird card reader!’ And they all dissolved into hysterical laughter.

‘Hello, Shiny,’ said Jasper solemnly, and Grace wondered if perhaps he was in fact disturbed by all the unusual activity.

Aloysius, seeing her smile, was heartened. Grace, though still suffering from frequent headaches, appeared much improved. The headaches, he informed everyone, were merely the aftermath of the dreadful fever she had contracted. Grace did not disagree. She was determined that Alicia’s wedding should not be spoiled and whenever her migraines became overwhelming she simply slipped away to her darkened bedroom and waited until they passed. Aloysius made sure she was undisturbed whenever this happened. Everyone noticed with approval how Aloysius ministered to her needs. So that outwardly, at least, Grace was becoming her old self again.

Meanwhile Frieda struggled. It was no good; she would have to go to confession again. Her thoughts were treacherous, her heart was breaking, and nobody cared. She knew it was hopeless, she was wasting her time, but somehow her uncontrollable heart kept on longing. On Christmas Eve, before they went to midnight Mass, Robert had come over for the last time.

‘To see you all,’ he beamed, but Frieda, watching him stealthily, knew it was really Alicia he wanted to see. It was Alicia he wanted to kiss goodbye.

‘I’m so sorry,’ he said, in his soft English voice, making Frieda want to weep. ‘I’m so sorry not to be here for the wedding.’ He looked mournfully at Alicia. ‘We’ll be setting sail for England before the New Year, I’m afraid.’

Frieda was afraid too. She was afraid of her dark stormy thoughts. Was she turning into a monster? she wondered fearfully. Robert said his goodbyes. He wanted to say goodbye to Frieda too, although having arrived at the house and having met the relatives he was enchanted all over again by the others and did not notice Frieda’s heart, lying broken and bleeding, at his feet. So Robert left, kissing the bride, wishing her luck, asking after Christopher who was nowhere to be seen, hurrying
into the rain and out through the old part of the city where all the Christmas lights glittered in the trees.

Later, when the rain had stopped, the wedding party walked back from Mass. Everyone was unusually silent.

I will never see him again, thought Frieda sadly.

In a week I will be back here for my wedding, thought Alicia wonderingly.

In the New Year I will at last leave on a ship to England, thought Jacob with a small thrill of delight.

Grace, staring up at the sky, felt the darkness like a tight band around her; Thornton smiled in the darkness, his secret smile, thinking his own thoughts. Above them, huge tropical stars shone unblinking in the wide, night sky and, as they strolled slowly back in the balmy air, not one of them paused to question whether there would ever be another Christmas like this again.