This Stolen Life

by This Stolen Life (retail) (epub)

  Relieved, Soma opened the door a bit more until it caught on the chair. Madam peered in and frowned. ‘Did you put the chair against the door?’

  ‘Sorry Madam. I…’

  Madam held up her hand. ‘Don’t apologize. It’s okay.’ She examined the door frame. ‘We’ll get a latch put on this door for you. You should feel safe in this room.’ She glanced back at Soma. ‘I’ll ask my cousin to come and put the latch in. Until then, you can wedge the chair under the door if that makes you feel safer.’

  A small knot unravelled in Soma’s chest. A room she could lock. What a kind lady this Madam was. ‘Thank you, Madam.’

  ‘Now, the rooms on the floor below are out of bounds,’ Madam carried on. ‘But you are free to go anywhere else in the house. There will be no one here for the next few hours. Have a look around.’

  A wail rang up the stairwell.

  Madam clicked her tongue. ‘Coming, Louie,’ she called, over her shoulder. ‘I’ll be back in a few hours. After lunch, I’ll take you to the shops. You’ll need to buy some warm clothes.’ With that, she turned and disappeared down the stairs.

  Soma listened as mother and baby left the house, slamming the door shut behind them. After that, she stood still, her cheek resting against the side of the door, and listened to the house gurgle and creak. She had heard of houses that made noises like that. Her own home had no plumbing. There were no pipes to hum, no wood to creak. How did people sleep when the house itself made so much noise?

  After a while, she got dressed. She was so cold, she put on all the clothes she had, then, as she warmed up, took a couple of layers off. Finally, dressed in leggings, t-shirt, a dress, a jumper and a cardigan, she went in search of breakfast.

  There were all manner of things in the kitchen. The only foods she actually recognized were bread and bananas. So she had a few slices of bread with butter. She bit into a banana and almost spat it out with disgust. Those weren’t bananas. Funny looking plantains, maybe, but they weren’t any sort of banana she recognized. Because she knew better than to waste food, she ate the horrible, pasty thing anyway.

  She walked through the house. Everything looked and smelled impossibly exotic, from the soft carpet underfoot to the funny contraptions that plugged into the wall and made the place smell of cinnamon. In the sitting room downstairs, she found a TV and DVDs. She wondered if she was allowed to watch TV. The thing the Gamages owned was enormous and flat, completely unlike the small TV at the shop that she and her mother went to watch the tele dramas on. Soma looked behind it. It was a screen without the back bit. Incredible.

  * * *

  Yamuna took Louie to meet his NCT contemporaries. These mid-morning meet ups usually took place in coffee shops on Princes Avenue, and were the only mother and baby things she could bear. She had tried all the others – bounce and rhyme, messy play, whatever, but Louie was such a grumpy baby that she’d stopped. This group, well this was different. At least they’d met her before she’d had a baby. They might see her as something more than the shadow that pushed the pram.

  A couple of the others were already there, their happy, chuckling babies on their laps. Bugger. It was the two yummy mummies. They’d both found time to do their hair and make-up and they looked positively glamorous. Ugh. Yamuna, took a deep breath and strode towards them.

  It had been fine when they were all hugely pregnant and sharing their fears. Most of the women were younger than Yamuna by nearly a decade, but that hadn’t mattered so much when they all had huge bumps, interrupted careers and impending motherhood in common. Then the first babies showed up and there was all the talk about the amazing experience and the trials of breastfeeding. Not all babies took to it. Louie, for example, refused to latch on properly, making the whole process agonising. In the end, Yamuna had given up and put Louie on the bottle. While it worked well for Louie, it was another mark of her failure as a mother.

  She greeted the others and made the obligatory admiring noises at the babies. ‘Louie’s asleep,’ she said apologetically. ‘I might go grab a cup of coffee before he wakes up.’

  ‘Oh sure. We’ll watch him for you,’ said one of the mums, looking up from waving a toy at her daughter.

  Yamuna hurried to the queue and ordered herself a strong coffee and a slice of cake. If Louie stayed asleep, she might even get to drink her coffee this time. She didn’t really have to concentrate on the conversation, just ‘ooh’ and ‘aah’ and let the other two talk about homeopathy and baby yoga or whatever else the superbabies were doing this month. The moment she sat down, Louie let out a teeth-jarring screech.

  ‘I guess he’s awake,’ she said.

  The others rolled their eyes and laughed in sympathy. As though their perfect babies did that sort of thing too.

  In the few seconds it took for Yamuna to get Louie out of the pram, he had got everyone’s attention. She liberated him from the blankets and joggled him on her hip. He wasn’t due for a feed, so she checked his nappy. Nope. His wailing paused for a moment while he had a look around.

  ‘Let’s go meet your little friends,’ she said. ‘Won’t that be nice?’

  Louie’s improved mood lasted all of three minutes before he started up again. People looked up from their coffees. Even the other two babies gave them funny looks. In the end, Yamuna fumbled around in the changing bag and got out a bottle of milk to shut him up.

  ‘Ah, he was hungry,’ said one of the other mothers. She was under thirty years old and had managed to shrink back to more or less her original size within a couple of weeks. Yamuna still wore maternity tops with jeans.

  ‘He’s always hungry these days,’ said Yamuna. ‘I’m wondering about weaning him.’

  ‘Oh, you can’t wean him until he’s six months. Anyway, I thought bottle-fed babies got fuller than breastfed ones.’

  Was that a dig about the bottle-feeding? Yamuna gave the woman a quick glance, but couldn’t tell.

  ‘Are we the only ones coming today?’ said the other one.

  ‘I think so. There are fewer and fewer of us, these days,’ said the first, raising her eyes heavenwards.

  ‘I won’t be able to come from next week,’ said Yamuna. She shifted Louie a little, so that she could catch a dribble of milk that escaped from the corner of his mouth. ‘I’m going back to work.’

  The news was met by a studied silence. Then, ‘Wow. That’s soon. Is the maternity provision at your work really bad?’

  ‘Not really, I…’ Her employer actually had an excellent maternity policy, but Yamuna couldn’t wait to get back to being a functioning human being. She was a rubbish mother, she knew that. At least at work, she was a competent scientist. It would be a relief to be good at something for a short while each day. ‘I thought it was best to go back. You know… professionally.’

  The other women nodded. ‘It’s a fair point,’ said one. ‘I’d go back to work, but by the time I’ve paid for childcare, I’d be making a loss.’

  ‘What are you doing for childcare? Did you find him a nice nursery?’

  ‘We’re hiring a nanny.’ Au pair, nanny, all good descriptions, but none really covered the frightened girl that she’d picked up from the airport the day before. ‘She seems good with Louie, so far.’ At least that was something.

  ‘Oh, lucky you! I wish we could hire a nanny!’

  Yamuna said nothing. She’d left Soma sleeping off her jet lag. The girl was young, she would recover from her flight in a day or so and then she and Louie could get to know each other better.

  Louie had finished his bottle and was lying with a thoughtful expression on his face. Which probably meant he was planning to fill his nappy. Yamuna reached over to take a sip of her coffee. It had cooled down to tepid. She picked up the cake and lifted it to her mouth.

  Louie’s bottom made a series of popping noises. The smell rose from him almost instantly. Yamuna put her cake back down uneaten and reached for the changing bag. As she stood up, Louie began to howl again, and people turned to look at th
em. Yamuna wished she was somewhere, anywhere, else.

  Chapter Five

  Soma was freezing. It was warm enough in the house, but the minute you stepped out, it was awful. Out on the street the cold was brutal. Madam had lent her a hat, which at least covered her head and ears, but her neck, which felt cold anyway now her hair was gone, felt raw and painful. Even inside the warm shop, she couldn’t shake the chill that had sunk into her bones. She checked the blanket that was tucked around Louie. He was looking at the bright lights of the shopping mall ceiling from his nice, warm cocoon of a pram. His eyes were huge and dark brown. He really was the most beautiful baby.

  Madam was marching them through a large clothes shop. She was dragging a plastic basket on wheels behind her, picking up clothes and tossing them in. Every so often, she would turn and hold something up against Soma, and decide for or against it. It was like shopping with a machine gun.

  ‘Let me see if this would fit.’ Madam held up a chunky woolly top. ‘Turn around.’

  Obediently, Soma turned and felt the top being placed against her shoulders. She held a long sleeve against Soma’s arm. ‘Hmm. It’s a bit big.’

  ‘I can hem it.’ The words came out before she had time to consider them. She could sew by hand, if necessary, but give her an overlocker and she could speed through dozens of garments in an hour. The ‘Juki machine’ job at the factory had paid well. She had always held a small amount back before she handed her weekly pay over to her mother. Without that, she would never have managed to find the bus fare to leave.

  She wondered how many of the garments in this shop had been pressed to a sewing machine with tired fingers like hers.

  ‘That’s useful,’ Madam said. ‘In that case, we’ll take it. Remind me to get some thread that matches.’

  ‘Yes Madam.’

  Louie fidgeted and made a face. Soma leaned over him. ‘Baby?’

  He made another face, his expression one of extreme concentration. Then the smell wafted up. Soma looked around. What did she do? She needed to change his nappy, but she couldn’t do it here. Outside was too cold. She looked around and could see nothing but racks of clothes. ‘Madam?’ she said, tentatively.

  Madam looked up from where she was rifling through a rail of jumpers. ‘What is it?’

  ‘Baby needs changing…’

  Madam looked at her blankly.

  ‘I don’t know where is best…’

  ‘Ah,’ said Madam. ‘Of course. You don’t know about baby changing facilities. Come. Follow me. I’ll show you what we do.’

  The toilet with the baby on the door was huge, but it was still a squash with two adults and the pram in it. Louie’s wailing, bounced around the small space, making it feel even more cramped. Madam pulled down a plastic ledge. Soma stared. Was the baby supposed to go on that? Madam then pulled a padded mat and some plastic packs from the bag that hung over the back of the pram. She looked expectantly at Soma, who had no idea what she was meant to do next.

  Madam let out a controlled sigh. ‘Lie Louie on the mat.’

  Soma took the baby out and laid him gently on the mat, her hand cradling his head. She had hoped that the first time she changed a nappy, she could do it by herself. She had watched cousins change their babies before, but they all wore cloth nappies. What was she supposed to do with all those plastic packets? Where did used nappies go? Madam was expecting her to change Louie now. Hesitantly, she worked the poppers on his little trousers, all the while shushing him.

  Clearly, she was taking too long, because Madam clicked her tongue. ‘Let me do it. Watch.’

  Soma watched carefully and noted the ritual of wiping down the mat, the cream that went on the baby’s bottom, the special bin for the used nappy. Madam seemed to sense her observation and looked up. ‘You’ll have to do it the next time,’ she said. ‘When I’m away at work, you will be in charge of looking after the baby.’ She frowned. ‘I don’t want you two to sit at home all day. It’s not good for either of you. I will show you the park. You have to take him there. He likes to look at the trees and the fresh air is good for him.’

  Madam had a long list of things that she thought were good for Louie. All well and good, Soma thought, but she didn’t seem to include time with his mother on that list. Her own mother had always been around when she was a child, a reassuring, smiling presence. That had been before, of course. When her father was still alive and life was still good.

  She shook her head. She couldn’t think about that life now. This was real life now. This tiny family, with their tall, tall house that separated them from everyone else.

  Louie was adorable. His mother’s views on childcare were probably how they did things in this country. She couldn’t have any confrontation anyway. She had to watch and learn and keep her head down so that no one gave her too much attention.

  * * *

  By the afternoon Soma was exhausted. The constant cold was helped by the new puffy coat, scarf, gloves and hat, but it still bit at her face, ears and eyelids. Signs she couldn’t read clamoured for her attention and she struggled to understand what people said. When Madam finally loaded them onto a bus, she sank down next to the pram, wanting nothing more than to close her eyes.

  In the pram, Louie was asleep after having a full bottle of milk, warmed up in a microwave that was tucked away in a special ‘baby feeding corner’ in a big department store. How strange this country was. They provided special rooms for changing and feeding babies as though they were a guilty secret that no one wanted to acknowledge.

  ‘We get off here,’ Madam said to her in Sinhalese.

  Soma nodded, thankful that Madam hadn’t insisted on testing her English. When she was in Sri Lanka, it had seemed that she could follow a conversation in English, even if she couldn’t speak it, but she hadn’t taken into account the accents and how much concentration it required. The bus drew to a halt and Soma kicked the brake off the pram. The bus floor lowered to let them off. Another unexpected concession towards the pram.

  She trudged behind her employer, almost leaning on the pram for support. How much more was there to learn? How on earth would she remember it all? They walked a short way and turned in at a set of black iron gates. A few steps down the tree-lined path, the sound of the traffic seemed to quieten. Mind you, the streets were quieter here anyway. People didn’t shout. Horns didn’t blare. And nothing seemed to smell much. It was as though everything was muted by the cold.

  This must be the park. The path of packed earth was edged by tall hedges that were miraculously green, which was in contrast to the bare trees. She knew about the seasons, but had never experienced them before. It couldn’t be winter because there was no snow. Winter was the one with snow. This must be another one. Autumn? But there were no yellow and brown leaves which always signified autumn in the books she’d seen. Soma shivered. If it was this cold now, how much worse would it be when it was actually cold enough to snow?

  The hedge on one side ended and suddenly they were in a big green park. Soma stopped walking and stared. There was a playground and grass and bare trees and patches of brown earth that might be flowerbeds, even though there were no flowers. Dotted around there were wooden benches. It was one of the most beautiful spaces she had ever seen.

  A small sound from the pram made her look down. Louie moved his fist up to his face and went back to sleep. When Soma looked back up again, Madam was watching her. Her expression was softer than it had been all afternoon.

  They sat down, with the pram parked in front of them.

  Madam was staring at her son. ‘Do you have everything you need?’ she said, without looking at Soma.

  She wasn’t sure. She now had warm clothes. A safe place to stay. Food. So yes, she did. But Madam meant something more than that. ‘I think… yes, Madam.’

  ‘You know what you need to do for Louie’s routine?’

  The list of activities in Louie’s day was long and the timings for them were very specific. Madam had written it all down f
or her. ‘Yes Madam.’

  ‘Good,’ said Madam, still looking at Louie. ‘That’s good.’

  In the silence that followed, Soma said nothing. She let herself relax enough to enjoy the wide open park. A couple of women jogged past. A group of young women pushing prams walked by, chatting in a language that didn’t sound like English. A figure in a thick coat threw a ball for a big Alsatian.

  ‘You will look after Louie.’

  Soma looked around to see Madam was staring at her intently now. It wasn’t a question. She was stating a fact. You will look after Louie properly or I will send you back.

  ‘Yes, Madam.’

  * * *

  Soma shut the door to her room. She pushed the chair against it too, for good measure. She had been there nearly two weeks now and no one had entered her room apart from herself and Madam. And Madam knocked. But she still felt safer with the chair against the door. When she woke up in the middle of the night, panic clawing in her chest, being able to sit up and see the chair still wedged against the door helped calm her in a way nothing else could. This was a safe place.

  The baby monitor sat next to her alarm clock on the bedside cabinet and emitted a soft glow, so that her room was never completely dark. It crackled as Louie stirred in his sleep. When he was still, she could hear all his little noises. She smiled. He was a lovely baby. Cranky when he was tired, but then, who wasn’t?

  Soma threw herself down on the bed and folded her arms behind her head. She still found it hard to believe that she was here. She had her own room. With a carpet and everything. What would her old friends say if they could see her now?

  Of course, she couldn’t tell them. As far as they were aware, she had disappeared. Gone. So her good fortune had to stay her own secret.

  She was lucky with Mrs Gamage too. Madam was cold and distant, always giving the impression that Soma was somehow under suspicion, but she wasn’t unkind. She had taken Soma shopping, although some of the money was to come out of Soma’s first wage. Without that, Soma would have frozen to death. The clothes she had brought with her were hopelessly inadequate. She hadn’t really understood the meaning of being cold when she’d bought them.