Cinnamon Gardens (40 page)

The moment they were walking across the quadrangle, Nancy said, “Miss Lawton has told me everything. It seems that the taxi strike turned violent last evening. A stone was thrown into a taxi and it blinded a woman in one eye.”

Annalukshmi drew in her breath in dismay.

“The wife of an Australian mayor.”

They both looked at each other, understanding the significance of this. If it had been a Ceylonese woman, the implications would not have been so grave. But with a European woman, something else was at stake. The honour of European men. No wonder the Inspector General of Police himself had come by the school.

“The police say Vijith’s brother threw the stone. They went to his house last night to arrest him. There was a scuffle and he managed to escape. The police think Vijith knows where his brother is. I’m scared that he’s got himself involved again.”

Annalukshmi took her friend’s hand. “I don’t blame you for being worried, but let’s not get upset until we know for certain what’s going on.”

That afternoon, as Annalukshmi was conducting a rehearsal of
As You Like It
under the trees at the edge of the quadrangle, she saw Mr. Jayaweera come in through the school gate. She put one of her students in charge and went quickly towards him. He had seen her and he waited for her at the steps that led into the staff room. As she came up to him, she saw, from the grim expression on his face, that his time at the police station had been extremely unpleasant.

“Rosa has saved some lunch for you,” she said. “Perhaps you should go and have something to eat.”

“Thank you, but I am not hungry.”

“Then you must at least have a cup of tea. I’ll send one of my girls to get you one.”

She started to go away and he said softly, “Miss Annalukshmi.”

She turned back to him.

“I would like to protect Nancy from this. The situation is not good. After police station, I went to my brother’s house to talk with the people there. Last night, police did not even knock on the door. Just broke it down and came inside. My brother jumped from the window and was running away, but they shot him in arm. The people in the house found blood on the road this morning.”

Annalukshmi looked at him, horrified. “My God, this is terrible.”

Mr. Jayaweera looked at his hands. “I think I know where my brother is. He told me if ever he was in trouble he would go to hide in a certain house in Pettah.”

“Do you think your brother is guilty?”

“No, but that is not the question. Knowing my brother was in prison once for labour problems, police have chosen easy victim. But I cannot stand by again and let my brother go to prison for something he did not do. I have found out he was seen at Labour Union meeting last night when incident occurred. If I go to him I risk leading police to his door.”

“You shouldn’t take that chance, Mr. Jayaweera.”

“But he is hurt. I don’t know if he has had wound attended. It’s better that the police find him alive than dead.”

“When we were in Malaya,” Annalukshmi said, “there were sometimes bandits on the road from Kuala Lumpur to our rubber estate. Once, my father, who always travelled with a pistol in his car, shot one of them in the leg. Days later, my sisters and I found the man dead in the forest near the estate. It was the terrible foul smell that led us to his hiding place. His leg had turned black and festered from gangrene. If your
brother has not had treatment for his wound, he will indeed need it soon.”

The next morning, when Annalukshmi arrived at the school, she found a student at the gate with a message from Nancy. She was to go immediately to the chapel and meet her there. She hurried up the path that led to the chapel. When she entered, she found Nancy sitting in one of the pews, her arms folded to her chest, rocking back and forth. Nancy heard Annalukshmi enter and she turned and beckoned to her urgently. Annalukshmi went and sat down by her side.

“What has happened?” Annalukshmi asked.

“It’s Vijith. He hasn’t come to school today.”

A feeling of foreboding began to creep through Annalukshmi.

“Perhaps he’s just late,” she said lamely.

“He’s never late. In fact, he’s always the first to arrive.”

Annalukshmi pressed her friend’s hand. “It’s nothing,” she said, trying to convince herself and Nancy. “With the taxi strike, the trams and buses are also delayed.”

“Miss Lawton sent the groundskeeper to his house in Pettah to find out what is wrong. I promised him some money to come and tell me first. I’ve been waiting in here for more than an hour.”

At that moment, they heard someone enter the chapel. The groundskeeper was walking quickly towards them. The expression on his face told them that something unfortunate had happened.

Nancy stood up and went to meet him in the aisle. Annalukshmi followed, her hands cold.

“Aiyo, missie,” he said. “What a thing. Jayaweera mahattaya went out last night and never came back.”

Nancy froze.

“Did anyone say where he might have gone?” Annalukshmi asked, even though she feared that she knew.

The groundskeeper shook his head. “He left late at night when everyone was asleep.”

Annalukshmi tried to hide her dismay from her friend.

Nancy had, however, seen something in Annalukshmi’s eyes. She pressed a coin into the groundskeeper’s hand and he bowed and left the chapel. She now turned to Annalukshmi and grasped her tightly by the arm. “You know something, don’t you?”

“I don’t know anything for certain, Nancy, but yesterday he told me he thought he knew where his brother was.”

“You should have told me,” Nancy cried. “I would have pleaded with him not to go. I would have tried to make him see sense.”

“He told me his brother had been shot by the police. He had to stop him from going to prison again for something he did not –” Annalukshmi, seeing Nancy’s surprised expression, stopped short.

“I have always known that it was something like that,” Nancy said after a moment.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t realize he hadn’t told you.”

Nancy shook her head. “When you love someone, when you know them intimately, you read their silences. You see how, again and again, they avoid certain subjects. I always wondered why he wasn’t more bitter when speaking of his brother. Now I clearly see that Vijith owes him something important.”

The school bell now rang announcing the beginning of prayers. As the students and teachers began to file in,
Annalukshmi and Nancy walked slowly to the front of the chapel where they would join the other teachers.

In the period before lunch, a prefect came to Annalukshmi’s class to tell her that Miss Lawton wanted to see her at once. She put the class monitor in charge and left. She was almost at the office when she noticed Nancy also hurrying across the quadrangle. She waited for her friend to catch up. They both stood for a moment, looking at each other, apprehensive.

The door to the headmistress’s office was open. Miss Lawton was waiting for them. “Come in, girls,” she called out.

The sober expression on Miss Lawton’s face boded no good. She gestured for them to be seated in the chairs across from the desk and then, rather than sitting down herself, she came and stood in front of them, leaning against the desk. “I’m afraid it’s not good news,” she said. “I wanted to tell you right away.”

Annalukshmi glanced at her friend, whose knuckles were white from gripping the arms of the chair.

“The police have been watching Mr. Jayaweera. Last night he left his house in Pettah and they followed him to where his brother was hiding. They’ve taken both of them to the police station, where they’re being held in custody.”

Nancy and Annalukshmi looked at each other.

“I’ve had a long talk with the Inspector General of Police,” Miss Lawton continued. “I don’t think they are going to be able to indict the brother for the blinding of that poor, innocent woman, more’s the pity. It seems he has gone and got himself a very strong alibi. The entire Labour Union is willing to swear themselves blue that he was at a meeting. It is likely that Mr. Jayaweera will therefore soon be released.”

Nancy slowly breathed out and relaxed back in her chair.

“This is such a relief to hear,” Annalukshmi said.

Miss Lawton was twisting a pencil between her fingers. After a moment, she looked up at them. “This will, of course, end Mr. Jayaweera’s career here.”

They stared at her in shock “But why should that be?” Annalukshmi cried. “He hasn’t committed a crime.”

“There is no crime, surely, in helping your brother,” Nancy said, her voice shaking.

“You have to understand my situation. You know what a small place Colombo is. No sooner was Mr. Jayaweera taken away for questioning yesterday than I had a telephone call from someone on the missionary board who had heard about it from someone with whom he plays golf. I was advised to seriously consider the reputation of the school. It’s been only a matter of hours since Mr. Jayaweera has been taken into custody, and I have already received a call from an important benefactor to this school. It is impossible to keep him on here. By tomorrow, his name and the place where he works will probably be in all the newspapers.”

“But what about his family! How are they to manage?” Annalukshmi said.

“Mr. Jayaweera should have thought of them before he got involved with his brother again.”

“But his brother was wounded. What would you –”

“My hands are tied, Anna. Even if I wanted to give Mr. Jayaweera a chance, I couldn’t. I blame myself for this in a way. I should never have hired someone who –”

“Stop!” Nancy cried and stood up.

Annalukshmi and Miss Lawton looked at Nancy. Her eyes were filled with tears.

“Nancy?” Miss Lawton touched her shoulder.

At this, Nancy turned her head and brushed her cheek with her hand.

Miss Lawton stared at her, puzzled as to why the usually unperturbed Nancy was in such a state. She glanced at Annalukshmi questioningly, but Annalukshmi looked away from her.

“What is all this about?” Miss Lawton said, holding Nancy’s hands. “Nancy, answer me.”

“There is something you should know … Vijith – Mr. Jayaweera – is in trouble so I must be free to help him.”

“What are you saying?”

Nancy was silent. “That Vijith and I have deep feelings for each other.”

Miss Lawton went to the other side of the desk and sat down.

“Oh? And how long have you both known this?”

“For a while.”

Miss Lawton suddenly pushed her chair back from the desk and stood up. “Have you taken complete leave of your senses? This man has nothing to offer you. A poor clerk, with a family to support. I didn’t bring you up a good Christian to have you give yourself to this.”

“I have thought about all this,” Nancy said, looking Miss Lawton straight in the eye.

“Your Mr. Jayaweera is now an unemployed clerk who has had a tangle with the law. Have you thought about that as well?”

Nancy sat down. “I understand how you must feel. But please promise you will try to understand my feelings.”

“Do not ask me to condone an alliance that will ultimately make you unhappy. I cannot do that.” Miss Lawton straightened the collar of her dress. “I beg you to stop seeing him.”

A silence fell among them. The school choir could be heard practising, their voices drifting across from the senior classroom block. Feeling uncomfortable, Annalukshmi quickly excused herself and left the room.

She came out into the quadrangle. A wind had picked up and was blowing leaves and scraps of paper around her. The sky had darkened in patches. This was, as the newspapers had been predicting, the precursor to the monsoon. In the distance, she could hear the sea, now stormy, waves thundering against the rocks. She slowly began to make her way across the deserted quadrangle towards her classroom. As she walked along, a tin can blown by the wind rattled along in front of her, as if leading the way.

T
he monsoon, which had been greeted with such relief when it arrived in early June to dispel the heat, had quite outstayed its welcome by July. The residents of Colombo found it vexatious to have their days governed by the great gusts of rain that materialized with little forewarning. For, when they arrived, everything had to stop until their tumult had subsided. Pedestrians and rickshaw riders would find themselves rushing for inadequate cover under the nearest tree or in a building. There they would find themselves stranded, shivering in their damp clothes for five minutes or an hour, it being useless to try to brave the rain with umbrellas, which would quickly sail away in the wind broken and twisted. Even those with the privilege of cars were not much better off. In a few minutes, a road could flood, forcing them to abandon their automobiles and also run for protection.