That was OK. For now. He’d proved last night that his voice was still in there somewhere. Good things came to those who waited. He’d have to be patient and take baby steps on his road to recovery.
Perhaps the next thing to do would be to work through his own songs, on the piano. He tried some of his album tracks. Songs that he hadn’t played for so long, he struggled to remember parts of them. There was a vague attempt to hum along, but even that didn’t work. His mouth was too dry, too fearful.
As he was working his way up to trying out some of his better-known hits, a movement caught his eye and he looked up. Standing at the foot of the piano, still and silent, was Sabina. She studied him intently.
‘Hey,’ he said. ‘Have you been there long?’
She nodded.
‘I’m a bit rusty. I haven’t played for ages.’
The child shrugged.
‘I’m going to practise though. Sometimes, if you don’t use it, you lose it.’ He tinkled the ivories again and she smiled. ‘Can you play the piano?’
She shook her head.
‘Want to try?’
A nod, but she stayed where she was.
‘Come on then.’ He waved her towards him and budged up on the piano stool so that there was room for her next to him.
Hesitantly, Sabina inched forward and sat down. There was something about her calm composure that settled him too.
‘Right,’ he said. ‘This is called “Chopsticks”.’ He played the silly ditty that he’d learned in childhood. The tune that had started him on the road to learning the piano and, ultimately, his love of music. ‘Want to try?’
She turned her face to him, her eyes widening slightly.
‘OK. A piano keyboard starts at A and runs to G.’ He showed her on the keys. ‘Like the alphabet. Except it goes A to G all the way along and each group sounds a bit higher.’
He hoped that he wasn’t making it too complicated for a kid, but it looked as if she was taking it all in.
‘Then, using your index finger on each hand’ – he wiggled them at her to show her which ones they were and, to his relief, Sabina copied him – ‘you put them on the F and the G key.’ He guided her to the right place. ‘All you do now is press them six times.’
She did as she was told.
‘Then move your left finger to the E key. Like this.’
He carried on teaching her the rest of the tune and, a diligent student, she didn’t put a foot, or rather a finger, wrong. For a young child, her concentration was remarkable and in a short time she’d learned the basics of the melody.
‘Now,’ Hayden said. ‘We’ll try it together.’
They started out very slowly and went through the notes several times. ‘Now faster,’ he instructed, and they picked up speed. ‘Faster.’
Up they went again. ‘Keep doing the same thing. Don’t change.’
So while Sabina played the same repeating tune, he added a second part and some frills and twiddles. Then he ended with a big flourish.
The girl smiled shyly at him.
‘High five.’ He held up his palm and she met it. ‘Well done. That was totally cool.’
With a self-satisfied smile, but without a single word, Sabina stood up and walked out of the room. Behind her she left a man grinning like a loon with an unexpected tear in his eye.
Chapter Twenty-six
When I return to the kitchen, Crystal is still sitting reading her magazine. She has her feet up on the chair next to her and her dressing gown has fallen open, revealing an awful lot of her skin. I try to avert my eyes.
‘I’ve got to get off to the day centre,’ Joy says. ‘The other old biddies will wonder where I am.’
She bustles out and soon the front door closes behind her.
‘She had a slight stroke,’ Crystal says, nodding after Joy. ‘Not long after she moved in here. She was only in hospital for a week and then I looked after her at home. She was a bloody nightmare.’
That makes me smile. I can imagine that Joy wouldn’t be a gracious patient.
‘She made a brilliant recovery. There’s a bit of weakness in her right side and she limps a bit when she’s tired. Amazing really. She still goes down to some sort of day centre place where they sent her for a bit of rehab or something. I don’t know what she gets out of it now. I think she just likes to go and boss everyone around.’
Perhaps she simply needs friends of her own age to socialise with. I know that’s something I’ve missed dreadfully over the years and now, suddenly, I have a new friend in Crystal. It’s a great pleasure to me.
‘Joy said that there’d been difficulty in her marriage.’
‘Not in the way you might be thinking. From what I can gather, her husband was ill for a long time. I’m not sure what the problem was, but he was bedridden for years. Joy was his sole carer. It was really hard on her boys when they were growing up. She said that they had to do a lot for themselves as she was so tied in looking after her husband. I don’t think he bore his illness well. Awkward old bugger by all accounts. That’s probably why Joy’s so prickly too. Sad really. The minute their sons finished university they were off and never looked back. I don’t think they wanted to come home again to all that illness. That’s what Joy implied, anyway. I’ve never met either of them. I’ve seen photographs though. Good-looking kids. And they’ve done really well for themselves. Joy doesn’t say too much, but I know she’s very proud of them.’
‘She must miss them very much.’
‘When they went her life got smaller and smaller,’ Crystal says. ‘Everything revolved round her husband. She rarely went out, never socialised. I think she was so bound to him that she stopped being able to see beyond her four walls. All credit to her, she was dedicated to him until the end, but it meant she lost her zest for life, her sense of adventure.’
‘Then he left her without money?’
‘He’d made some seriously bad investments. They reckon whatever he had might have affected his mental faculties. Could be tittle-tattle though. I don’t know the ins and outs of what went on. You know Joy: she gets really tetchy if you dig too much. All I know is that, after a lifetime of working and caring, she’s now got jack shit.’
‘That must be very hard for her.’
‘Bloody nightmare,’ Crystal agrees. ‘God only knows what she’d have done if Hayden hadn’t let her stay here. Perhaps she would have had to go to one of her sons then, whether she wanted to or not.’
‘That’s so sad.’
‘We try to look after her, but she’s an awkward old cuss. Quite bitter about it too, I think. She’s too independent by half as well.’
‘That’s probably what keeps her going,’ I offer.
‘You’re probably right.’ Crystal shudders. ‘Anyway, let’s talk about something else. All this doom and gloom is bringing me down. Joy will be all right. She’s one tough cookie.’
I realise that my daughter’s not here. ‘Where is Sabina?’
‘She went upstairs to get a book,’ Crystal says.
I take this opportunity to talk earnestly to my friend. ‘Crystal, I need to find a job. Something very quickly. We have little money and I must provide for Sabina. Are there any job vacancies where you work?’
‘At the club?’ Crystal throws her head back and laughs. ‘You want to be a dancer?’
‘I’ll do anything. I have inadequate reading and writing skills in English, but I can dance a little.’ In truth, I’ve had no reason to dance for a long time. My efforts last night proved that it doesn’t come easily to me now. ‘In traditional Sri Lankan style.’
‘I don’t think you know what kind of dancing I do, Ayesha.’ Crystal is more serious now. ‘All I do is jiggle my tits in the faces of sweaty businessmen.’
‘Oh.’ I’m taken aback by this. ‘Really?’ I imagined her in a show or cabaret, wearing a spangly costume, with feathers in her hair.
‘Really.’ She nods and I can tell this is no joke. ‘It’s a total dump, cate
ring for total sleazebags.’
I thought that Crystal would work somewhere wonderful and glamorous. It seems this isn’t the case.
‘It’s a lapdancing club, sweetie.’ She pulls a rueful face at me. ‘Can you see why I think you’re not suited?’
‘Yes. I can see.’
‘Don’t worry.’ She pats my hand. ‘We’ll find you something.’
She must see dejection written on my face as she says, ‘You could show me how you dance though. That’d be fun. I’d love to see it. I know nothing about your culture.’
‘I have no music.’
‘Let’s go into the living room, see if we can find a bit of “Jai Ho” on the iPod. Will that do?’
‘It’s Indian, not Sri Lankan, but it will be fine.’ I wring my hands. ‘At Sabina’s school they did some Bollywood dancing. This song was her favourite and when my husband was out we’d sometimes sneak to play it. She used to sing along at the top of her voice.’
The thought saddens me.
‘She will do again, one day,’ my friend assures me. ‘Just keep believing.’
Crystal takes me by the hand and we go through to the living room. Thankfully, it’s deserted. The French doors are open and a lovely breeze blows through the room. Crystal goes to the iPod and flicks through it.
‘Here we go,’ she says eventually.
While I take my place in the middle of the floor, Crystal curls up on the sofa – my audience of one.
‘I’m embarrassed now,’ I tell her. ‘I haven’t done this for a long time.’ I remember last night when I was dancing and Hayden came in. I’m ashamed now that I thought he was going to strike me. I have to be stronger to rid myself of those bad memories.
‘It’s a bit of fun,’ Crystal says. ‘That’s all. I’m not the judge on a talent show.’
Just in time for my performance, Sabina comes into the room and snuggles up against her new auntie on the sofa. She expresses no surprise that her mama is dancing.
Crystal presses the remote control and ‘Jai Ho’ starts up.
We have many different traditional dances in my home country: the Kandyan dances of the hill country; Pahatharata Natum, which is from the low country; and Sabaragamuwa dances, which are a mix of both. Each style of dance has different movements, rhythms and meanings and a special kind of drum is used according to the dance. There’s been no reason for me to continue with traditional dancing since my marriage. All this I remember from my childhood, and I’m saddened that my daughter knows nothing of it. She was born in England and has never been home to the country of her ancestors. If I work hard and do well, perhaps one day I may take her to visit her grandparents. They’re not getting younger and I hate to think that they’ll never see her.
Since I’ve been here, I’ve written to my parents to tell them of our circumstances and am dreading the moment they receive my letter. The impression they have of their daughter’s perfect life will be shattered for ever. I can only hope that I’ve managed to convey that, even though our situation is precarious, I’m happier now than I’ve been for some considerable time.
I think back to the things I did with my parents when I was a small girl. I’d like to take my own daughter to the Temple of the Tooth, and to the ancient ruined city of Sigiriya. She should see the verdant tea plantations which stretch out across the hills of my land, ride on an elephant and drink water straight from the coconut. I’d like her to visit the home of my birth, to feel the hot, white sand beneath her feet and hear the rush of the clear blue Indian Ocean.
Despite the uplifting music, I feel melancholy in my heart. I start to dance, showing some simple, elegant moves. It seems strange to do them wearing my new clothing. My dress feels restrictive, and it makes me think how very comfortable a shalwar kameez is. One day, when I feel safe again, I may wear my traditional dress once more. Though I’ll never buy khaki. I’ll always wear light and beautiful colours.
Then the sound takes over and my spirit rises. The hands are very expressive in Sri Lankan dance and I twist them this way and that, trying to remember the correct moves. When the song clicks off, both Sabina and Crystal clap enthusiastically.
‘Oh, I can’t sit here,’ Crystal says, jumping up. ‘You got to teach me how to throw some of those shapes. Come on, Beanie.’ She hustles my daughter up too and presses the remote again. For the second time, ‘Jai Ho’ rings out.
Crystal and Sabina stand next to me and I go through my little routine again. They try to copy me.
‘Bloody hell, woman,’ Crystal complains. ‘You look like a delicate little bird, and I look like a flipping vulture.’
‘Just follow me.’
‘I’m trying!’
We start the music again and, though Sabina fares very well, we all end up giggling. Though my daughter makes no sound, she’s shaking with laughter.
‘I think we’ll do freestyle,’ Crystal says. ‘I’m too rubbish at that.’ She cranks up the music and we all hold hands and dance round the living room, skipping in a circle and, two of us, singing our hearts out.
As we are having so much fun, none of us notices that, out in the garden, Hayden is watching us all with a happy smile on his lips.
Chapter Twenty-seven
I hope that we’ll all have dinner together again tonight. With Joy’s blessing, I collect vegetables from the garden, taking care to choose the best ones or use things that are coming to an end. I have a small trug which Joy gave me and it’s filled with lovely, fresh produce. I have a beetroot, an onion, a cauliflower and some potatoes. I’ve also picked some mint. They all smell wonderful, of freshness, of earth.
Crystal takes me down to the big freezer in the garage where all the meat is kept and I select a bag of stewing lamb to make into a rogan josh for tomorrow night.
Looking around me, I count that there are three cars parked in here, all under dust covers.
‘Does no one drive these?’ I ask, feeling as if I must whisper.
‘No. Hayden hasn’t been out in them for years. He used to have someone ferry him around, but he rarely went out even then. Now he doesn’t go out or drive at all.’
‘Since Laura?’ This seems to have been such a terrible moment in his life that all of his pain stems from it.
‘Yeah.’
‘He must have loved her very much.’
‘He adored her. By all accounts.’
‘You never knew her?’
‘No. She’d already gone when I met Hayd.’
‘She looks very beautiful.’
‘A stunner,’ Crystal agrees. ‘You should see some of the pictures of her in the glossies. Hot!’ She makes a sizzling noise. ‘When I first met him I think he was trying to drink himself into an early grave. Thank goodness he knocked that on the head. You might not believe it, but he’s a lot better now. He’s still not the same man he was, though.’
I’d like to ask Crystal what happened to make Laura leave, but I daren’t intrude. Hayden would have told me if he’d wanted me to know.
Crystal waves a hand at the unused vehicles. ‘The cars sit here in mothballs.’ She runs a hand over one of the covers. ‘Can you drive?’
I shake my head. ‘I’d like to learn. One day.’
‘It’s a nightmare in London,’ Crystal says. ‘The traffic’s ridiculous and the cost of insurance is sky-high. You might as well get a bus or a tube everywhere.’
It will be a long time before I can afford to run a car anyway, so it’s not a pressing problem. But how can anyone have so many cars that are simply unused?
‘I think you’re good for him, Ayesha,’ she says. ‘Between us we might make him a fully functioning human being again.’
I’d like to think that.
‘Now,’ Crystal says. ‘Let’s get that dinner on before I starve.’
Back in the kitchen, I make some seasonal vegetable dumplings and cauliflower pakora that I’ll serve with a spicy kadhi yoghurt curry. For Joy, I’ll make a cool raita with mint. I’ll also make a side dish o
f saag bhaji with the spinach, and fry some potatoes.
The cupboard is well stocked with spices, but I’m missing some fresh chillies and coriander.
‘I’ll pop out to the grocers up the road,’ Crystal says. ‘Shopping I can do. Want to come, Beanie?’
‘I’d rather she stay here.’ I feel myself panic at the thought of her going out without me. ‘If you don’t mind.’
‘Of course not. But I’d look after her, Ayesha. You know that. I love her to bits.’ Crystal squeezes my daughter and then picks up her keys. Sabina looks as if she desperately wants to go with Crystal but, of course, she says nothing. ‘I’ll be back in ten.’
Sabina watches, chin in hands, while I make puri breads with flour and caraway seeds, which I’ll deep-fry before we need them, so they’re nice and warm. Then I start to prepare my vegetables.
Before long, Crystal returns with my supplies. ‘Good Christ, Ayesha.’ She stares at all the food that’s now spread out on the counter. ‘Have you never heard of the perils of carbs?’
‘No,’ I say honestly.
‘I’m going to have to start working out with Hayden,’ she says.
‘Did I hear my name?’ Hayden comes into the kitchen. He also casts his eye over my ingredients. ‘Looks good. What’s on the menu?’
I run through my plan and he raises an eyebrow, which seems to be approving.
‘Will you join us?’
‘Go on, Misery Guts,’ Crystal urges. ‘That’ll be two nights in a row you won’t have hidden in your room by yourself.’
Hayden grins at her. ‘When you put it so nicely, how can I possibly refuse?’
‘Look at this lot.’ Crystal waves her arms, encompassing my efforts. ‘This is better than toast. We hit paydirt when Ayesha rocked up here,’ and she bounds out happily from the kitchen.
‘We did,’ Hayden says softly and, even though I hadn’t planned it, our eyes meet.
A Place to Call Home Page 12