Liz nodded. “I haven’t got the papers yet. I have all the legal things to see to before it is mine, but I will come back and see you and tell you more.” Ashok smiled a smile that made him look so young that for a moment Liz wondered if she was making a mistake, but again, some gut feeling made her feel that this was somehow meant to be. Ashok stood. The meeting was over. His wife smiled shyly, and the little girl once again buried her head in the folds of her mother’s sari.
The baby had stopped suckling and Ashok took the child. “My son,” he said proudly laying the small child in a hammock made of sari-type fabric and attached by hooks or nails to the mud walls. He bent down and picked up the shy little girl and announced equally proudly: “And this is my daughter Maya.” His wife stood and Liz shook her hand, then Ashok’s, before going out through the narrow door and onto the now dark path.
“This way,” a quiet voice said. It was Ashok’s wife. She took Liz’s hand and led her back to where the lights from the hotel grounds would light her way.
chapter 4
The next few weeks were wonderfully frantic. Once again Liz extended her stay at the hotel and, apart from a few hours writing every morning, the rest of her time was taken up with the house. She had found herself a lawyer and with a certain exchange of cash she now owned a residential permit and the house. She was aware that he would get as much money from her as possible and had asked him to present a monthly account. Sadly for him, all good things come to an end and with reluctance, he agreed with her that there was nothing else he could do for her. They parted on good terms both aware that one might need the other in the future!
Kathy and Liz talked regularly. Liz was happy that Kathy not only thought what Liz had done was a good idea, but was planning to visit as soon as her current commitments were completed. Liz stalled her as much as she could, she wanted her to see the house when all the work was completed and that was still a while off.
Ashok had become her right-hand man, her general factotum. He seemed to spend most of his time there at the house overseeing everything. There were now five men working full time on the gardens, front and rear. The drive had been cleared to reveal a well-laid surface and gradually the front garden was taking shape. In the far left corner near the front tumbledown wall they had found a dilapidated hut. Looking at it one evening as she walked around now more easily than before, Liz inspected it for the first time. It had a decent door, though the hinges needed replacing. The windows needed new glass and inside she discovered two rooms, one with a fireplace and chimney perfect for cooking. The other room, which was the same size, could be used as a bedroom. There was, she discovered, an area behind the back of the hut and the outside wall was large enough for a simple wash area and a lavatory could be fitted too. Liz looked thoughtful as she walked back to the house. The little hut had real possibilities.
The taxi was waiting for her and she carefully locked the front door which had now been fitted with a new lock and key by a locksmith from a nearby village, one of Ashok’s contacts of course. Now the house was secure, work had begun seriously on the inside. The taxi driver stopped the car to close the gates firmly behind them and Liz began to feel that she would prefer to stay behind rather than go back to the hotel though she knew she was weeks away from that pleasure.
That evening she dressed in the new tailor-made dress. She put the jacket on too, feeling the light breeze on her bare arms. She put her hair up and small tendrils caused by the humidity formed little curls at her neck. The staff knew her so well now they all greeted her warmly. Not many guests stayed for so long and, despite her own discretion, word was getting around about the old house she was doing up.
Her favourite chef greeted her warmly. Liz chose roasted vegetables with a piquant sauce he had made especially for her. “You are such a wonderful chef,” she murmured.
“Madame O’Mal” – they all called her that now, she thought perhaps it was easier for them to say – “Madame, when you look for a chef, my young brother is in training. He is even better than me,” he added generously. Liz smiled in response, she hadn’t got that far but living here in Goa anything was possible.
The next afternoon found her searching for Ashok. The gardeners were hard at work and in the house, the new marble floors looked wonderful. There was noise everywhere as men painted and hammered. The new wiring and plumbing had been completed and, in a week’s time, the three new bathrooms would be installed.
She finally found Ashok in the back garden. His team had started to clear the last part of the garden that morning. Rajiv had called him and shown him what he had just found. A mother cat with three very newly born kittens. “Shall I kill them?” Rajiv wanted to know. Normally he wouldn’t have asked, cats were a nuisance, like most of the dogs around.
“Better not,” replied Ashok, thinking about Madame O’Mal. He had seen her sometimes stroking the stray cats around the hotel. He had even seen her take food to stray dogs on the beach. Ashok found her behaviour puzzling. He and Nina sometimes had barely enough to eat, before Madame’s appearance anyway. “Leave them alone,” he informed Rajiv. “I must ask Madame O’Mal.” Rajiv nodded, he too understood that she was not like them with the animals.
Ashok found her by the brick hut. “Ah, Ashok I have been looking for you,” she said.
“I too have been looking for you, Madame. I have something to show you.”
“But—” Liz began then changed her mind. Her plan could wait. “Please follow,” he said quaintly. His English was so good, even though he had left school at twelve. He had told her he was a clever student and she had no reason to doubt him.
Intrigued, she followed him around the house and into the back garden. Ducking under branches still waiting to be cut and weaving through shrubs in full flower, if not overgrown, she saw Rajiv eyeing her curiously and gave him a half smile. What was going on! Ashok stopped quite suddenly and pulled back some branches. He pointed. She leaned forward to look, wondering what she was supposed to be looking at. The eyes of the mother cat were frightened. She had thought she was safe, tucked away like this. The tiny mews made Liz look closer. There nestling close to their mother three tiny kittens. One wholly black, one black and white and the third the palest ginger. The mother, so protective, seemed to pull the kittens closer to her. “Leave the area alone,” she said to Ashok, speaking as quietly as she could. “Leave plenty of space all around them.”
The following morning, her writing was left as she took a taxi to Panaji. There, as she couldn’t find cat food, she purchased tins of corned beef and sardines. At the last moment, she remembered a tin opener and a large tin of powdered milk. At the market she bought some small plastic dishes and then asked the driver to take her back to Benaulim and, once there, directed him to the house.
Liz couldn’t wait to open one of the tins and chop up some sardines. The kittens were alright at present, being fed somehow by a hungry mother cat. Even the quick glance Liz had had showed the mother cat was pitifully thin. Soon she was walking back through the garden. As instructed the gardeners had left a big swathe of untouched overgrowth around the little family. She heard the mews before she reached them, three hungry kittens demanding to be fed. Easing the branches and undergrowth back she spoke softly to the mother cat, telling her that there was food and milk for her. The mother cat looked but didn’t move so Liz moved away and stood silently, scarcely breathing. After a few moments, her patience was rewarded. The mother cat, thin, oh so thin – a tabby – crept stealthily out of cover, the lure of food too much. She put her nose in the milk. Uncertain, she left it and tried the sardines. This was more to her taste and every last morsel disappeared. She tried the milk now. The creamer had been mixed with water, and now thirsty, the cat started to lap.
Liz watched in fascination at the dainty lap-lap, until the small bowl was empty. To her surprise, the cat came slowly towards her and Liz heard purring as the cat circled her ankles a few tim
es before returning to her babies.
It became a daily ritual and before long the mother cat seemed to trust Liz, even allowing her to stroke and then cuddle each kitten in turn. Ashok and Rajiv looked on in amazement at this strange behaviour, but they were learning Madame O’Mal had her own set of rules.
chapter 5
Returning to the hotel late one evening, Liz found an email from her agent wondering why she had stopped sending the latest chapters of her novel. It all seemed so far away. Agents, books, even writing. For the first time in years, Liz was having a real holiday and loving every moment of her busy, fulfilling life. She emailed Alex saying she was catching up with other things at the moment and was giving herself at least a month off. If he was dismayed he didn’t let her know, just sent a brief and totally satisfactory response: “Message received and understood. Alex.”
Liz had been full of plans for the small building in the grounds. Feeling rather guilty that she had not done anything about it yet, she sought Ashok out one morning. He was watching two men from Panaji tiling the bathrooms. He had never seen walls tiled before and was full of astonishment. Liz forgot sometimes he still lived in a mud hut. He looked guilty when he saw her, expecting her to be cross that he was wasting time. As far as Liz was concerned, everything he saw broadened his knowledge and he would be even more useful.
“Ashok—” she began.
“Madame O’Mal, I shouldn’t be here. I should be seeing the carpenters in the bedrooms.”
She smiled. Yes, he should, but she liked him to learn new things all the time. “Ashok please come with me.” Ashok felt worried. What if she sent him away? His whole life had changed, now every week she paid him and the men he had found to do the gardens, the woodwork, the painting. Now perhaps she had no further use for him and Nina would cry. For the first time in their three-year marriage, they could eat less meagrely. Ashok wouldn’t let Nina have all the money for food. He hid some in the crack he had made in the wall. One day, soon perhaps, Madame would no longer need him.
Thinking doleful thoughts, he followed her down the stairs, being careful with his bad leg not to slip on the marble stairs. She continued to walk through the front door and down the drive. Ashok followed as quickly as he could, his leg aching at the knee with the effort. He put his right hand down to assist the movement in his leg when Madame suddenly stopped and pointed to a corner of the front garden, where the little house stood, an area she had told him to leave alone.
Smiling in anticipation of what she was about to tell him, she was suddenly concerned. In her eagerness to share her plan she had made him hurry, which she knew hurt his leg. She knew better now than to apologise, it drew attention to his disability which he didn’t like. She stood patiently for a few seconds until he was by her side.
“Ashok,” she began. “How would you, Nina and the children like to live there? It needs a lot doing to it, of course, running water, washing facilities, lavatory, cooking area—” She was allowed to go no further. Ashok took her hand and kissed it. He drew himself to his full height and looked her straight in the eyes. He seemed, unusually, incapable of speech. Then the words tumbled out one after another, so fast she could barely understand. She smiled and waited for him to become calmer. “Oh, Madame O’Mal, a brick house, a proper roof, but I cannot pay.”
“Ashok, let’s go and look inside.” Secretly, when everyone had left the site, she had swept through and realised it was bigger than her first impression. It must have been a workshop and the ceiling was high enough for a platform to have been erected. With a modest stair it could be a mezzanine sleeping area for Ashok and Nina and, with the addition of a window cut into the roof, they would have light and air.
“I shall pay you Ashok. You and Nina to live here. Nina can help in my house and you will keep the gardens in good order and do any maintenance and repair work.” Ashok looked puzzled. “Then when I am away in England I will know that my home here is well looked after. Tomorrow, I want you to bring Nina here so we can plan how things will be. I will arrange for the water and electricity.” Ashok kept shaking his head. He could hardly believe what he was hearing. A proper house, work for him and Nina. All he wanted was to go home and tell her the news.
His face mirrored his thoughts. “Would you like to go and tell Nina?” Liz asked. His smile, a wonderfully happy smile that said more than words ever could, lit his face. He could hardly speak, he was so full of emotion. “You go, Ashok, please.” Liz watched him limping away as fast as he could without even a backward glance. He didn’t want her to see the tears running unchecked down his cheeks. It was a long walk home for him and she hoped he would manage to hitch a ride from one of the many two-wheelers that passed that way searching for business.
Two hours later Ashok arrived with Nina and the baby. They had left Maya, their daughter, with a neighbour. Nina was so shy. Her English was much more limited than Ashok’s and she seemed somewhat dazed by the news. Liz saw them arrive and saw Ashok paying a taxi driver – one hundred rupees. She knew he and Nina had never been in a taxi before, and to hire one and pay for it out of their precious earnings was a huge step.
Liz watched as Ashok pointed to the “house” and led the way. They disappeared through the door and Liz could not imagine what was going on in their minds.
“It’s a palace,” Nina said, inside the small house. “Are you sure we can live here? What happens if she sends us away and someone else has our home?”
“There will be water and electricity, and look, Nina, look up there. Madame O’Mal says we could put steps up and we could sleep up there.”
“We might roll off in the night.” Nina sounded anxious.
“I shall put boards along, like a fence,” Ashok responded. Nina was silent.
“I don’t believe it,” she said finally.
“Wait, wait here.” As quickly as his legs would allow, Ashok walked through the garden to the main house. Before the renovations had been done, he used to just walk in the main door. Now, with marble floors everywhere and lights hanging from the ceilings, it seemed so important a place that he knocked. Liz had seen him coming but decided to wait. She noticed he knocked now and realised they would soon have to talk about his comings and goings, but for now, she was sure he wanted to talk about the hut.
“She doesn’t believe me,” he began. “Madame O’Mal, please tell her it is all true.” He sounded so upset that Liz knew she must take this conversation very seriously.
“I will talk to her straight away,” she said, walking out of the house and keeping pace with the anxious young man at her side.
Nina was finally convinced. Liz couldn’t help it, she felt so happy at their happiness that she felt warm inside. When the idea had first occurred to her she had thought how good it would be to have someone living nearby, but seeing the couple’s reaction she recognised that she benefitted from their happiness, because she felt happy too.
chapter 6
The flight to Mumbai was quite straightforward. To Liz’s relief, she found internal flights considerably easier than arriving or leaving the country, which was a hideously long drawn out procedure.
Although she was only flying internally she had heard gruesome tales of bureaucracy in the extreme. Pleasantly surprised she arrived in Mumbai and took a taxi to the Taj hotel, Mumbai. She had arranged to stay for three nights as she was sure she could choose furniture for her bedroom, two guest rooms, dining room and sitting room within that time.
The hotel was as expected. The staff were extremely helpful and the following morning she was whisked in an air-conditioned taxi from major store to major store. Finally, she had chosen everything she needed including fabrics for Nargis, the tailor’s wife who was going to make her curtains.
Liz enjoyed the bustle of the city, trying not to become too disturbed by the poverty, but being very aware of it. It seemed somehow worse in the general melee of Mumbai than in the more
rural Benaulim. The poverty was the same she supposed but it felt harder to cope with.
On the return flight, she closed her eyes and visualised her new home with all the things she had purchased. Her mind wandered over the newly completed bathrooms and her splendid kitchen, her laundry area with the staff dining area off it. In one week she surmised, when the furniture arrived, she could move in. The curtains would not be made but she could close the newly repaired and painted shutters, sparkling white with a soft green trim.
The intricate iron trellis balconies upstairs and around the veranda downstairs had now been completely repaired and painted. She had tried to match the paint to the original, which she described as a “quiet green” to Kathy in one of their many chats.
The linen had arrived safely from Peter Jones in England, all now stored away in the huge linen cupboard one of Ashok’s carpenters had made. Ashok had come up trumps, she thought, with painters, carpenters, gardeners and builders to rebuild the adobe-style outside walls around the grounds that had been tumbling down all over the place.
Electricians and plumbers had come from Panaji, the capital of Goa, along with the bathroom suites and kitchen. Liz longed to check out of the hotel. It had been wonderful, they had looked after her so well. She was now a “gold” guest because of the money she had spent with them and had been very spoiled and pampered. But now, quite suddenly, with the end in sight, she longed to move “home”. The cats would enjoy it too. Gradually, she had gained the mother cat’s trust and had decided she wanted to adopt this little family. First of all, Liz decided she needed a proper bed for them. The baskets that the hotel returned clean laundry in would be perfect. On impulse she requested the housekeeper to come to her room. The poor woman arrived looking very anxious and she was so relieved at the request, having expected a complaint, she immediately offered two! At first, Liz demurred, then realising that kittens grow, changed her mind and accepted, insisting she must pay for them. Despite her pleas, the housekeeper refused to accept any payment. Liz thanked her warmly and mentally added something extra to the tip she had planned to give her when she checked out.
The Portuguese House Page 3