Cinnamon Gardens (17 page)

Annalukshmi and Nancy exchanged glances.

Just then, they heard the front gate open. It was Miss Lawton. She stopped on the front path when she saw them. “Hadn’t you better come in, girls?” she called. “The mosquitoes are terrible at this time of the evening. Dinner should be ready soon.”

Annalukshmi and Nancy got up.

“If I am ever possessed by a devil, I shall certainly come to you, Mr. Jayaweera,” Nancy said teasingly.

He smiled. “I will be at your service, then.” He bowed with mock gravity.

Miss Lawton was waiting for them. Nancy and Annalukshmi began to walk across the garden towards her.

Nancy took Annalukshmi’s arm and said softly, “Just a word of caution. I wouldn’t mention his story to Miss Lawton.”

“I think Miss Lawton might find it fascinating.”

“I dearly love her, but we all have our limitations. And you know how she is about non-Christian things. I don’t want her lecturing him about these matters and then dismissing what he and his family believes. In any event, how are we to know that it didn’t happen exactly that way.”

Annalukshmi nodded to say she would not speak of it. Much as she esteemed Miss Lawton, she was not blind to this prejudice of hers.

“In fact, she was not even going to hire Mr. Jayaweera because he was Buddhist,” Nancy continued. “But Mr. Wesley was very persuasive and once he told her about the plight of Mr. Jayaweera’s family, her heart melted.”

Since it was nearly December and the school year was drawing to an end, it was time to select the students who would be admitted to the junior school next year. After dinner, when the table was cleared, Miss Lawton asked Nancy and Annalukshmi to help her go through the applications.

They had barely sat down at the dining table, the pile of applications in front of them, when Nancy picked up one and said, “Now I know you don’t like to admit non-Christian girls to the school, but here is a girl – this Niloufer Akbarally – I really think we should consider.”

Miss Lawton smiled and shook her head. “Unfortunately, this year I have been asked by the missionary board to be stricter than usual. As you very well know, certain members of the Legislative Council have successfully lobbied the Ministry of Education to have some of the money it allots us Christian schools reallocated to non-Christian schools. It is time to look after our own, Nancy dear. First Mission Church girls, then Protestant girls. I might give in on a few Catholics, but that’s it.”

“But the Akbarallys have been students at Colpetty Mission School for generations. You know they’ve won numerous prizes and brought much honour to our school.”

“But there are so many non-Christian schools now, wouldn’t the Akbarallys be far better off sending their daughter to a school where she would be amongst her own?”

“But the teaching standard is so low in those schools. Miss Lawton, you always say that us Christian women have greater freedoms than women of other faiths because of the very nature of Christianity. That its message of tolerance and love has bred the European cultures that in turn have given women these freedoms. Is it not necessary then to share this enlightenment with those who might be less at liberty?”

“Why don’t we return to the Akbarally application later,” Annalukshmi said.

“I could not agree with you more about liberty, Nancy dear,” Miss Lawton said, as if not hearing Annalukshmi’s comment, “but look at this pile of applications, I’m sure that more than half of them are from non-Christians, most of them highly eligible. Our school is one of the finest in this country, so everyone wants their daughters to be in it. I cannot put our Christian girls at a disadvantage by admitting others before them.”

Annalukshmi could see she would get nowhere trying to stop the disagreement she had heard so many times before, and she excused herself from the room.

She walked out onto the back verandah. Mr. Jayaweera was sitting at the far end in an armchair outside his room, reading a book by the light of a kerosene lamp. He had changed into a sarong and a shirt. When he saw her approaching, he stood up. She gestured for him to be seated.

“What are you reading, Mr. Jayaweera?” she asked.

“It’s a book by a writer named W. A. Silva. About life in rural Ceylon.”

She stood by the verandah post. “I keep thinking about your story,” she said after a moment. “Do you really believe your sister was possessed?”

“I was not prepared to believe it. But if you had seen Dayawathy, you would have believed it too. To think that my sister could ring the neck of a rooster and drink its blood!” He put his book on his knee. “We live in age when science reigns. We are both educated to think so. If it can’t be demonstrated with proof and evidence, it does not exist. But perhaps there are many things that cannot be explained in such a way. Perhaps the old ways, our old ways which we have been taught to ignore, have some things to teach us.”

Annalukshmi was silent, taking in what he had said. “And your sister, Mr. Jayaweera, since then she has never experienced the same malady?”

He was silent, looking down at his hands. “No,” he said after a moment with a sadness in his voice. “She has not experienced anything like that. My sister died few years ago.”

Annalukshmi stared at him in the half-light of the kerosene lamp. “I’m sorry.”

He nodded. “Malaria. It’s quite common in that part of Ceylon. Almost every family has experienced one death because of it.”

Annalukshmi nodded her head in sympathy. “Your life has been so hard, Mr. Jayaweera, first your sister, then your brother,” She stopped, realizing what she had said.

“You know about that?”

“Yes,” Annalukshmi said reluctantly. “Miss Lawton mentioned it to me.”

There was a silence between them broken only by the sound of an owl hooting in the garden.

“You know, Mr. Jayaweera, I … I don’t think badly of your brother.”

He looked up at her, taken aback.

“In fact, I think it’s admirable what he did. Not many people truly care about the poor. Care enough to put themselves at risk.”

“You are too idealistic, Miss Annalukshmi. Because of what happened, I lost my post and my family nearly starved. If not for kindness of Mr. Wesley, if not for this job, we would be beggars now. People with big ideas never think what the cost is to others.”

He opened his book and began to read.

Annalukshmi saw that she had offended him, but why or how she did not know. The stern expression on his face did not invite further conversation. After a moment, she turned and made her way back along the verandah.

I
n the days following his meeting with Richard, Balendran had intended to tell his father that Richard was not, in fact, Dr. Shiels’ assistant. Yet every time he thought to do so, he kept deferring it. Speaking to his father about Richard was an unpleasant, embarrassing task, especially when he took into account his lack of composure the last time they had discussed the subject.

It was the Mudaliyar’s habit to lunch every Wednesday at the Grand Oriental Hotel in the commercial district of the Fort, a popular haunt for affluent Ceylonese. The hotel was next to the landing dock of the Colombo harbour. It had a palm court where a band played and a beautifully appointed dining room with a European chef. For his weekly luncheons, the Mudaliyar engaged a private dining room upstairs. It had a view of the harbour, with its interesting spectacle of stately ships passing in and out. Balendran and Sonia were always his guests on these occasions.

One Wednesday afternoon, the three of them were coming out of the Grand Oriental Hotel when Balendran saw Richard
and Mr. Alliston walking towards them along the arcade that ran the length of the hotel.

Sonia had spotted them as well. “Bala, it’s your friends.”

She waved, then turned to Balendran. The look on his face spoke of an error she did not understand.

The Mudaliyar peered down the arcade. “It’s your friend, Mr. Howland, isn’t it?” he asked.

Richard and Mr. Alliston had come closer. Richard faltered when he saw the Mudaliyar, a look of dismay on his face.

“Mr. Howland,” the Mudaliyar said grandly and held out his hand, “a pleasure indeed, after all these years.”

Richard hesitated, then came forward and offered his hand to the Mudaliyar. “Sir,” he said and briefly shook his hand. Then he introduced Alli.

“Ah, I see you’ve got your trusty companion with you,” Sonia said, pointing to Cave’s
The Book of Ceylon
, which Richard had in his hand.

“Yes,” Richard said. “We’ve been following it faithfully.”

“Too faithfully,” Alli added. “One doesn’t come halfway across the world to walk along streets that look like London.”

“Ah, Mr. Alliston,” the Mudaliyar said, “you should then visit the sites of our glorious past, Anuradhapura and Polonnaruwa.”

“Thank you, sir,” Alli said politely, “but that’s not the sort of travelling I enjoy. It’s the Greeks in their little tavernas that interest me, not the Acropolis.”

The Mudaliyar looked at his son.

“What Mr. Alliston is trying to say, Appa, is that he would rather see how the people of Ceylon live than the ancient sites,” Balendran explained.

“Ah,” the Mudaliyar cried, “that’s easily arranged.” He drew his watch out and glanced at it. “In fact, if you are free, I would
be delighted to invite you both to tea at my residence. You will get to see how a typical Ceylonese family lives.” He beamed at everyone’s astonished faces.

“I thank you very much, sir –” Richard started to say, but Alli cut him short.

“We’d be delighted to accept,” he said.

“Well then, it’s settled.” The Mudaliyar led the way to where his car was parked.

As they followed, Balendran glanced at his father, dismayed. The Mudaliyar was going to impress his ideas on Richard and, through him, Dr. Shiels. Balendran noted that Richard gave Mr. Alliston a furious look, which he returned with an innocent smile.

“I’m afraid you might be disappointed, Mr. Alliston,” Sonia said softly. “It’s hardly a typical Ceylonese family.”

“It will be wonderfully charming,” Alli said.

They had reached the Mudaliyar’s car now and the driver held the door open for them. The automobile was a grey-green 1925 Delahaye and, by its very length, ostentatious. Yet there was a stuffiness inside it, as the roof was low and not detachable.

When they entered Brighton, Nalamma came hurrying into the vestibule. She saw the two Europeans with her family and she stopped in surprise.

“They have come for tea,” the Mudaliyar said in Tamil.

Nalamma hurried away to instruct the servants to make the necessary preparations, and the Mudaliyar led the way to the drawing room.

Once tea had been served, the Mudaliyar sat back in his chair and clasped his hands in front of him. A coldness crept up
Balendran’s neck. His father was about to bring up the topic of the commission.

“The whole experience of this commission must be fascinating to you, Mr. Howland,” the Mudaliyar said.

“Indeed, sir.”

“I’m sure Dr. Shiels must find it so as well.”

Richard’s eyes narrowed. “I’m sure he does, sir.”

The Mudaliyar leant forward. “I hope that Dr. Shiels, when he makes his recommendations, does so with care, having considered the implications of reform on an Oriental society. You see, Mr. Howland, I have always felt that the problem with modern Europe is that it has forgotten its aristocracy and the obedience to its will. If every man’s voice is to count equally, the voice of those who think will be drowned out by those who do not think, because they have no leisure to think. This position leaves all classes alike at the mercy of unscrupulous opportunists.”

As the Mudaliyar spoke, Balendran noticed that Richard began to frown, as if he were gradually realizing something. When the Mudaliyar paused for a moment, he said, “Sir, I hope you are not still under the impression that I am Dr. Shiels’ assistant.”

Balendran felt his mouth go dry.

“You ought to understand that I have no influence over Dr. Shiels whatsoever.” Richard’s voice had a biting anger to it. “It would be useless to think I could sway Dr. Shiels’ decisions.”

Sonia and Mr. Alliston were staring at Richard, discomfited by the sharpness of his voice.

The Mudaliyar looked as though he had been slapped.

Richard stood. “We should be going,” he said to Alli. He turned to the Mudaliyar. “I thank you, sir, for your hospitality.”

The Mudaliyar raised his hand slightly in acknowledgement.

Balendran got up and followed Richard out.

Alli was still bidding everyone goodbye, so they had a few moments alone in the vestibule.

“Richard,” Balendran said softly, “I’m so sorry about all this. I was going to tell my father but –”

“So this is why you were so anxious to contact me, Bala. Not out of friendship, not because of the memory of what we had –”

“Sssh.”

“– but because you wanted to do your bloody father’s business.” He gestured towards the drawing room. “Did you actually think you could get me to accept that drivel?”