Cinnamon Gardens (14 page)

He thought of the call he was finally able to make after much agonizing.

“Bala.”

“Richard! I’m glad you phoned.”

There was an uncomfortable silence.

“I was told you were travelling with the commission,” Balendran said.

“No, I’m not with the commission. I’m here to study the commission. For a paper.”

Another silence. “Well, we should meet.”

“Very well. Come tomorrow at four. My friend Mr. Alliston will join us.”

“I’d like you to meet my wife, Sonia. I’ll bring her along.”

So, Balendran had married. But, after all, wasn’t that inevitable? Richard found himself thinking about this “wife” with a certain disdain, remembering the Ceylonese women on board the ship. There had been modern women, but he thought of the traditional ones – the way they drew their saris or shawls over their head when they passed him, as if he might carry an infectious disease. He felt sure she was a cloistered, traditional woman, naïve to the ways of the world and certainly to the ways of her husband. Probably some cousin from Jaffna, judging from what Bala had told him about Tamil marriage customs.

Richard looked at Alli. Yes, he thought to himself, you might have a wife, but I am not solitary either. Balendran would have to admit Alli was handsome in a voluptuous way. Tall with nice shoulders, a mop of curly, black hair, ivory skin, and full lips
that always looked like they had been touched with red salve. Yet Alli was twenty-seven, fourteen years younger than himself, and Richard could not help remembering the way Balendran and he used to make fun of those middle-aged men with their pretty young things. He wondered now if Balendran would look at Alli and think he was Richard’s old folly. He felt disheartened by the thought.

Alli had turned to Richard, aware he was under scrutiny.

“I’ve told you it was all over, a long time ago,” Richard said. “I’m a big boy now.”

“Well, big boy, you could have picked Jamaica or Mauritius to study.”

“I’ve explained to you numerous times the importance of this commission, the precedent it might set for self-government in other colonies.” Richard looked at Alli closely. He could not tell if Alli was simply amused or if he was jealous about this meeting.

At that moment, there was a knock on their door and Alli went to answer it. It was a bellhop. “Mr. Balendran is waiting for you in the foyer, sir,” he said.

Richard rose from his table hurriedly, almost knocking the chair backwards. “We’ll be down right away.”

The bellhop bowed and shut the door.

Richard hastened to the almirah to get his coat. In taking it out, he fumbled and the coat slipped off the hanger and fell to the ground. Alli quickly retrieved it and held it out to him. “Not nervous are we, dearest,” he said with a smug smile.

“Stop it, Alli,” Richard replied irritably.

Balendran and Sonia sat in the lounge. Even though it was only mid-November, the hotel had already put out its Christmas
decorations. As Sonia chatted away about how incongruous and silly the fake holly and mistletoe looked in the tropics, Balendran found himself gazing out over Galle Face Green, where a horse rider was cantering across the field. He thought of that walk he had taken across the green two weeks ago, just after his father had told him of Richard’s arrival. All the rationalizations he had used to convince himself that this meeting would be painless, even banal, seemed senseless now in the face of this impending encounter.

From where Balendran was sitting, he could see into the foyer of the hotel, where a great wooden staircase rose up to the second floor. To the left of the staircase was the lift. The door to the lift now swung open and Richard stepped out. Balendran rose to his feet and stared at Richard. How much older he looked, how changed. His friend had seen him and he started to come across the foyer. Richard, so slim in his youth, had become heavyset, especially around the jaws. His hair was thinning out and had receded halfway up his head. It was the face of a middle-aged man. Balendran felt a sudden pang of sadness, for there in Richard’s face, like the physical distance between them across the foyer, were the missing years of their lives.

Richard was now in front of him. “Bala,” he said gruffly and extended his hand.

Balendran took it, but could not speak for a moment because of the sadness in him. “Richard.”

Their gaze met and, in that instant, Richard saw that Balendran’s eyes were unguarded. His own defensiveness fell away. As they held each other’s hands, there passed between them the understanding of their history together, of the life that had been theirs. It settled on them like fine dust.

Sonia had risen from her seat now and Balendran let go of
Richard’s hand. “This is my wife, Sonia,” Balendran said, turning to her.

Richard saw with surprise that she was of mixed blood, that the cut of her sari blouse, with its short sleeves, was modern. She was holding out her hand and he took it. “Pleased to meet you,” they both said at the same time, and then smiled at their synchronization.

“And this is my friend, Mr. Alliston,” Richard said and turned towards Alli, who was standing a little away from them.

He came forward and offered his hand to Sonia first since she was the woman in their party.

This gave Balendran a moment to look him over. How young he is, he thought immediately and then was careful not to let the surprise show in his face. Mr. Alliston had turned to him now. Balendran shook his hand and said warmly. “Welcome to Ceylon. I hope you have a very pleasant stay here.”

They all stood for a moment, not knowing what to say next.

“Well, shall we?” Richard said and pointed in the direction of the garden.

The Galle Face Hotel garden opened directly onto the beach. The upper part of the lawn was a terrace with wrought-iron tables and wicker chairs for tea. The terrace was bordered by a balustrade, and a set of steps led down to the lower garden that was shaded by coconut trees. Beyond it was the sea. As they came into the garden, they could hear music wafting down from the ballroom gallery upstairs. The band was playing a jaunty Charleston.

When they were all seated on the terrace and had ordered tea, there was an awkward pause, then Richard and Balendran spoke at the same time.

“I must say it was a surprise –”

“It’s impossible to believe you are –”

Richard indicated for Balendran to speak first.

“It’s impossible to believe you are actually in Ceylon. When we heard you were travelling here as Dr. Shiels’ so-called assistant, we were surprised.”

“I couldn’t think of a worse position to be in. The political situation here is more complex than I could ever have imagined. This Donoughmore Commission is rushing in where angels fear to tread.”

“Yes,” Balendran said, relieved that they had found something to discuss. Something that would alleviate the awkwardness. “It is a complex society with numerous horizontal and vertical divisions. It’s going to be very hard to find a constitution that works. Still, one must hope.”

“I thought I could assess the situation in one month,” Richard said, leaning forward. “It needs many months of work. I don’t know how this commission dares to think they can make a reasoned recommendation in such a short period of time.”

“That’s the British for you,” Alli said. “Think they can barge in and tell everyone what to do. Then act put out when their brilliant solutions don’t work.”

“Hear, hear,” Sonia said, “I’m with Mr. Alliston on that.”

“I think both of you are a bit harsh on the British,” Richard said. It was just like Alli to come out with some naïve statement like that. “They are, after all, trying their best to remedy past wrongs.”

“Rubbish,” Alli replied. “They’re trying to have their cake and eat it. Making it look like they’re being fair and treating the colonies well while they rob them blind. Mark my words, this commission’s recommendations will make sure the British continue to have their way.”

Richard, not wanting to get into an argument with Alli, abruptly changed the subject. “Do you think this country is ready for universal franchise?” Richard asked Balendran.

“No. But I think it should be given anyway. The country is a whitened sepulchre.” He waved his hand at his surroundings. “Don’t be fooled by all this. You only have to step out into the countryside to find the crippling poverty, the illiteracy, people dying from malaria and lack of proper medical facilities. Already so much has been remedied through limited franchise.”

“Such as?” Richard said, searching his pockets for a pencil and notebook.

“Such as the repealing of a bill the British and some of the local élite were using to appropriate land that traditionally belonged to the village communities. Of course, there was a huge hue and cry from the European community in particular.”

“The Europeans?” Richard asked, somewhat puzzled by whom the term might cover.

“Forgive me,” Balendran said. “By Europeans, we Ceylonese often mean anyone of European descent, including British, Americans, Australians.”

Richard gestured for him to continue.

“They said they were an endangered minority whose rights needed to be protected. This, despite their controlling eighty-five per cent of the tea and sixty per cent of the rubber of this country.”

Before he could go any further, Alli stood up, bored with the conversation.

“Where are you going?” Richard asked quickly.

“Down to the bottom of the garden to look at the sea.”

“I’ll come with you, Mr. Alliston,” Sonia said and stood up. “I always love the view from there.”

Balendran was alarmed that she was going, leaving them alone. But Mr. Alliston had already held out his arm to Sonia gallantly. She took it and they began to walk down the steps chatting to each other. Balendran caught Richard’s glance and he saw that his friend was feeling as uneasy as he was.

“Your wife, she’s charming,” Richard said after a moment. “Where did you meet her?”

“We met in London at –” Balendran paused. “We met at her aunt’s house.”

Richard stared at him in surprise. He looked down the garden at Sonia, a disturbing thought forming in his mind. “While you were a student there?” he asked.

Balendran moved in his chair uncomfortably. “Richard, let’s not dwell on the past.”

An uncomfortable silence fell between them, punctured by Richard tapping his pencil on his notebook and the sound of the band upstairs playing a soulful ballad.

On the way home, Sonia turned to Balendran in the car and said, “I like Mr. Alliston very much. At first his indolent manner was off-putting. But I think he has a lot of sense. Sees things with remarkable clarity. He’s good for your friend, Mr. Howland. Keeps him from hoisting the British flag too high.”

She leant back in her seat and folded her arms. “And so good-looking too. It’s funny how those sorts always are. Even Mr. Howland, you can tell he was –”

A quick movement from Balendran made her break off and look at him. He was staring at her in astonishment.

“Bala, darling,” she said and took his hand, smiling. “Surely you could tell, couldn’t you?”

“Tell what?” Balendran said, trying to conceal his fear.

“They’re, you know … inverts. ‘Friends of Oscar,’ as Aunty Ethel used to say.”

Balendran withdrew his hand from hers. “Don’t be crass, Sonia. What a terrible thing to say about someone you claim to like.”

Sonia looked at him, hurt that he had chastised her.

“Besides, how could you tell?” Balendran said gruffly. “There was nothing to indicate that.”

“Perhaps some of us are more astute than others,” Sonia replied stiffly. Then she added, “It was the difference in their ages. Besides, Mr. Alliston is a little ‘outre,’ as Aunty Ethel would say.”

Balendran looked out of the window and, after a few moments, he realized that his heart was beating furiously.

That evening, Balendran retired to his study under the auspices of working on some estate affairs, but he sat at his desk, thinking of the meeting with Richard. It shocked him that Sonia had discerned what he had never expected she would, that Sonia actually knew what inversion was. “Friends of Oscar,” Lady Boxton had called them. A thing he would have thought beyond the pale of refined society, beyond the understanding of decent women. Yet they were both decent women, ladies, and their knowing such a thing took him aback.

Balendran sighed as he thought of Richard’s question about Sonia. Everything had gone fairly well until that moment. Now he regretted having cut him off so abruptly. He could have easily said something like, “No, I met her after you left.” Alluding indirectly to their relationship and separation and not leaving
Richard with the false impression that he had been unfaithful. He shook his head at his own stupidity.

Balendran found himself thinking of the first time he had seen Richard, coming across the lawn of Lincoln’s Inn, his gown flapping out behind him. It had been a fine autumn day and he, Balendran, had been leaning on the balustrade, too lazy to go into the library and study. He had watched Richard come up the step and Richard, looking up, had seen him too. “Hello,” Richard said, as if they had met before.