Brixton Beach (22 page)

‘Alice is sleeping late,’ he said laconically. ‘Must be tired, finally. Either that or she discovered the whisky bottle!’

‘No, she’s with Kunal,’ Sita said, smiling suddenly.

Unexpectedly Bee’s spirits lifted.

Apparently there was something she needed to ask him urgently. There was no stopping her.’

Bee groaned. And then chuckled.

‘She’ll do him good,’ he said.

They stood looking at the sea together. The day would be an ordeal in its own way for Sita. There was nothing either of them needed to say after that. In the final analysis, they would behave like the Buddhist people they were. His pain, her loss, all of it was in the gesture of his arm around her. She is like me, Bee thought, feeling a kind of peace settle over them both. Neither of us can speak easily. He saw that Sita had left years ago, long before Alice was born, probably long before she even set eyes on Stanley. She had needed to find her own way in
life. It was what she needed to do on this journey to the strange place she was going to. He saw how it was, clearly.

‘From out the fiery portal of the east,’ he quoted lightly. ‘You are going to the country that gave us Shakespeare, after all! Just think of that.’

‘Thatha,’ Sita said, so softly he bent his head to hear her, ‘we may come back, you know. Alice and I.’

She struggled for a moment, then she turned, looking at him with Alice’s large eyes. The very same eyes, thought Bee. And now pain clutched his heart.

‘If it doesn’t work out, I mean, if…if…’

‘Wait and see,’ he told her.

His arm still rested lightly on her.

‘You know you can always return. When the time is right, if things work out differently.’

A small green bird hopped on to the bushes that screened the annexe from view. I am the man who travelled to far-flung places without moving an inch, thought Bee.

‘I must go in to check on Kunal,’ Sita said.

Bee nodded.

‘Tell Alice she must come out now. It’s the auspicious time to do so!’

They both laughed. It felt as though they had said their good-byes.

The
poruwa
, the canopy under which the bride and groom would stand, had been erected the evening before. May’s schoolgirls had helped Alice and Esther decorate it with white flowers and gold ribbons. There were terracotta vases of temple flowers and sheaves of paddy placed beside the mini-stage while overhead the silk was shot through with silvery stars.

‘They must stand facing the south,’ the astrologer had said, consulting his chart.

The wedding ceremony was to be at three minutes past eleven, the time that was most auspicious for them both.

And the bride,’ the astrologer told them sternly, wagging his head from side to side, never having met a man as disobedient as Bee, ‘must be dressed at three minutes to nine.’

Smells of
kiri-bath
, milk rice, that most auspicious of food, drifted through the house. Other scents and aromas crept in too, filling the air with celebration. The bridal flowers, a huge bouquet of lilies and stephanotis, was delivered and Janake, pedalling furiously all the way up the hill, brought the fresh fish. Cooking started as Janake stood at the back door looking for Alice, but there was no sign of her this morning.

‘Come back later,’ Kamala said. Alice is getting ready now. Come back just before eleven.’

In another part of the garden a marquee was being erected with much noise and laughter. The guests would dine here in its shade after the ceremony. A horn beeped; Kamala’s younger brother Sarath and his wife and two children stepped out of a car and embraced everyone. They had driven from Colombo. As this was a Buddhist wedding it would be Sarath who would be giving his niece away in marriage. Several relatives arrived on the overnight train. This was the moment Sita had dreaded most of all, but now that it was here there was too much else to do to worry about the visitors.

They dressed, all together for the last time. Three generations of women under the same roof. May shivering with suppressed excitement and Alice agog in a white silk dress threaded with pink rosebuds. Kamala looked around for her elder daughter, but Sita had disappeared again.

‘Mama’s gone to see Kunal,’ Alice told her.

‘Oh no!’

Kamala looked alarmed. They had agreed that no one would go into the annexe for the few hours it took for the wedding to take place. She did not want to bring attention to it.

‘Oh, Amma, don’t worry,’ May said. ‘She’ll be careful. Let her, she’s happy. Leave her.’

‘She likes Kunal,’ Alice observed. ‘She was holding his hand this morning. Aunty May, I can’t do up my shoe properly.’

‘Let me see,’ May said, exchanging looks with Kamala over Alice’s head. ‘Oh yes, it needs another hole in the strap, that’s all!’

Kunal was sitting on the end of the bed, wearing a pale blue sarong. In repose his face looked haggard. When he saw Sita, he broke into a smile. She closed the door. The room was full of the smell of the sea.

‘Why aren’t you resting?’ she said, sitting next to him.

She said this almost every time she came in, for at the back of her mind was the worry that his temperature might return. She had been looking after him for so long now that it had become a habit. He had filled the space in her head that she thought would never be filled again. Certainty flooded over her at the sight of him. Her voice didn’t sound quite right. It felt as if it no longer belonged to her. The warm line of her arm touched his briefly, a gentle frontier resting against him. Kunal looked at her, saying nothing, taking in her turquoise sari and the way it made her skin fairer and her eyes even darker. She had fixed her hair in a way that revealed her long slender neck. He stared at her for so long that in the end she averted her eyes, uncertain.

‘What’s wrong?’ she asked.

‘Alice will look like you one day,’ he said. ‘I hope I’ll be there to see that day’

She was so close he could feel the warmth of her breath. The smell of foliage and sun-drenched dew clinging to her.

‘Have you been outside?’

She nodded, unable to speak. With a small sound of despair he leaned over and put both arms around her. He swayed slightly, almost losing his balance, feeling happiness bubble up.

‘Don’t,’ he said.

‘What?’

‘Don’t look at me like that,’ he said, and then, because the ache within him had become unbearable, he kissed her.

Stanley was shocked. London was not as he had expected. After the excitement of Athens and the slight boredom of the voyage, he was unprepared for the seriousness of this new phase in his life. His brother Rajah met him off the boat train at Waterloo. Marianna had travelled up to London with him, but just as the train was slowing down, when he went to collect his luggage, she disappeared. He
assumed she had gone to the toilet but when the train stopped she did not reappear. They had not exchanged addresses. His brother was waiting for him by the ticket office. Rajah, unfamiliar and pale from a lack of tropical sun, confused him with his fast talk and odd accent. Stanley could neither respond to nor assimilate anything being said. Everything passed him by in a blur. The traffic, the ride in the taxi.

‘We can’t do this too often, men,’ Rajah told him. ‘It’s too damn expensive.’

Stanley sat shivering in his thin clothes.

‘You cold?’ Rajah asked.

‘Yes,’ Stanley said reluctantly.

He was aware that his brother was inclined to laugh, though what about, he had no idea. He felt like an amputee. And for the first time since he had left Colombo he wished Sita was with him.

Rajah had found him a house. At least, thought Stanley, he had done that.

‘I promised Ma I’d pay the rent for the first month,’ he told Stanley with a trace of resentment in his voice. ‘But you’ll have to start looking for work straight away, huh? Monday morning, okay?’

Give me a chance, thought Stanley. But he didn’t say anything.

‘Don’t use too much paraffin,’ Rajah continued. ‘Only heat one room at a time. Everything here is costly.’

I thought this place was paradise, thought Stanley, remembering how Rajah had urged him to leave Colombo.

‘You should get some proper clothes,’ Rajah continued, eyeing Stanley’s thin pullover with distaste. ‘You can have some of mine to start with.’

The house was dirty and very dark. There was a damp unused smell and the long corridor that separated the sitting room from the hall was covered in maroon flock wallpaper.

‘What’s this stuff?’ Stanley asked.

‘Wallpaper, men!’

A wire curtain rail supported a sagging curtain. This, too, was filthy. What sort of place was this? wondered Stanley in dismay.

‘It just needs a clean,’ Rajah said, seeing the look on his face. ‘The wife can clean it up in no time at all.’

He suppressed a laugh. The wife, thought Stanley, his dismay increasing. He was speechless with exhaustion, cold and unhappy. Why had Marianna disappeared?

‘When’s she coming?’

‘What?’

‘The wife. How long have you got before she comes?’

He was laughing openly now.

‘Middle of August,’ Stanley said shortly.

He had forgotten how Rajah always used to get on his nerves. Rajah rattled the loose change in his pocket. There was a pause.

‘Right!’ he said, taking charge, ‘you’ve seen the place. Here’s the key. There are a couple of clean sheets and some blankets on the bed. I’ve put some stuff in the fridge for the morning and there’s paraffin in the heater. So you’ll be all right for a bit. Now, I’m starving, so let’s go to my place and I’ll cook you some proper food. I know what that bloody ship’s fare is like! Come on. Let’s go!’

And he led the way outside.

But outside, things were no better. They took the underground, but the darkness and the noise frightened him.

‘We’re under the Thames,’ Rajah said, adding to his confusion as they approached Charing Cross. ‘This is the Northern Line, and I’m over here in Earl’s Court. So we’ve got to change on to the Circle Line. See?’

Stanley didn’t see. Rajah was racing ahead past crowds of people all with closed faces and intent silent expressions. His head spun. Where did Rajah get all his energy? At Earl’s Court they left the tube and hurried across the road, pausing only at the traffic lights. Cars stopped obediently and without protest as soon as the lights turned red. No one beeped their horns, and it was pedestrians and not beggars who occupied the pavements. Stanley tried talking to Rajah but it was all he could do to keep up with him as they crossed and recrossed a confusion of roads, passing row after row of identical tall red-bricked houses with closed doors and windows. What sort of place was this?

‘Here we are!’ Rajah said.

He opened the door and they went in.

‘Welcome to my humble abode!’ he laughed, shepherding his brother into his flat.

In the colourless room, sitting at the table were three Jaffna Tamil men who looked up briefly and nodded at him. Outside the window the sky and the road were a dank, depressing grey.

‘Alice!’ Esther cried, coming in, impressed. ‘You look really grown-up, today! I can’t believe you are only nine!’

Alice, her eyes shining, was whirling around until Kamala scolded her, telling her the flowers were falling out of her hair.

‘Come here, Putha,’ Dias Harris cried. ‘Stand still, there’s a good girl, or I’ll squeeze your cheeks!’

‘Now, now, calm down everyone,’ Kamala admonished. ‘May, let me do your jacket up.’

‘You look so beautiful, Aunty,’ Esther said, staring at her.

Ah! May! Of course she does. Even more than usual, I should say! You must be so proud of your girls, Kamala.’

‘Where’s Thatha?’ May asked.

‘He’s getting dressed. I’ve finally got him away from his wretched studio.
Anay
, the man is driving me mad!’

And Sita?’ asked Dias.

‘I’m here,’ Sita said, appearing behind them.

There was a small silence.

‘Why, Sita,’ Dias Harris said faintly, ‘I almost didn’t recognise you.’

‘Come,’ Kamala told her carefully, ‘your flower has got crushed. I’ll turn it round.’

Sita smiled at her mother and, in the first spontaneous gesture in years, she turned to her sister and kissed her. Then she put her hand on Alice, restraining her.

‘Let me comb your hair,’ she said.

Just after eleven, the auspicious hour, Namil arrived and it began. Silver, gold and white. Love at the right time; love that was politically correct, thought Sita, but the thought held no bitterness. The bride and groom fed each other the sweetened
kiri-bath
, cut now into
diamond shapes. Just like love-birds. At last May was emerging from her sister’s disgrace, was the thought utmost in the minds of the guests. And Sita, they whispered to each other, she looked better than one could have hoped, standing quietly, holding the bride’s flowers during the ceremony. A silver goblet was brought forward on a silver tray. May’s little finger was tied to Namil’s and water, blessed by the monks, was poured over them. The guests let out sighs of pleasure as rings were exchanged and the bridegroom placed a necklace around his new wife’s neck. A white cloth was tied around them both as husband and wife were helped off the wedding dais by May’s uncle Sarath. For a moment the sisters stood together. Well, thought Bee, glancing around the garden at some of the guests, there were still some prejudiced fools present today. He had tried to censor the invitations, but Kamala had overruled him, telling him to behave himself. It couldn’t be helped, he thought grimly, but they could all go to hell if anything was said in his hearing about Sita. A sweet cloying smell of frangipani and jasmine drifted across the garden and behind, a backdrop of blue, was the sea, empty of ships.

After the registration of the marriage, Kamala lifted her daughter’s veil and they cut the cake and lit an oil lamp so that any darkness they might have brought with them into this life was dispersed. Bee stood with the sunlight slanting on his face, watching them. Thirty years before it had been Kamala’s face that had been unveiled in this way. Would she say it had gone well for them, if she were asked? Watching her, his face unusually soft, he saw she was smiling broadly. Lately she had not smiled much. He glanced at Sita, whose face today was glowing with something other than her sister’s wedding. Here they were then, all together for the last time. Bee had no illusions but that it was the last time. Unless a miracle occurred. He wondered if he ought to slip out and check on Kunal. The hospital doctor was here today. Bee could see his dark curly hair, further back, watching the ceremony. He too was smiling. Turning his head, Bee caught Kamala’s eye. She raised her eyebrows heavenwards. Don’t go to check on him now, she seemed to be saying, you’re needed
here
. Bee felt his face twitch. She had always been able to read his thoughts. He caught sight of Alice,
her head cocked on one side, a broad grin directed at Janake. What were
they
plotting? He let out a sigh. Yes, he thought. Alice would travel the world, he was certain, doing what he could only dream of. And as he watched them all, Bee felt the day and the sunlight and the rustling, silky sea, become fixed into the last segment of his life. On this day when his youngest daughter was married. The kavi-chanters recited their last verse, the bride and groom walked together to greet the guests, laughing and chatting to them. Lunch was about to be served. Glasses of water were passed around and everyone drank to the health, wealth and prosperity of Namil and his new wife May.