Anthony stood dumbfounded.
‘I thought you were not like them.’ Hemachandra Mudalali’s face twisted in a sneer. ‘What will you do when you are finished? When she is too old for you? Sell her as a slave?’
‘Damn you for comparing me with my brother.’ The fury in Anthony’s voice silenced Hemachandra Mudalali. ‘Or with my father, for that matter. I want her to care for Daniel. I am not looking for a lover for myself.’ There was no way he was going to explain his relationship to Lakshmi to this idiot.
‘But,’ stammered Hemachandra Mudalali, ‘how will they allow?’
Daniel was now asleep and drooling on Anthony’s shoulder. Anthony silenced Hemachandra Mudalali with his other hand. ‘It’s all arranged. I have a visa to take a local woman as a nanny for the child. If she agrees, Lakshmi will be part of Daniel’s life. When he is old enough, we will tell him the truth.’
Hemachandra Mudalali eyes bulged and his jaw dropped. ‘You will do that? You will tell him she is the mother? A coolie? You are not ashamed?’
‘The shame is what we the British have done to the plantations.’ Anthony fixed his eyes on Hemachandra Mudalali. ‘Is Lakshmi here?’ he raised his voice. ‘I must speak to her.’
‘Yes, she is here.’ Hemachandra Mudalali’s voice was wary. ‘But she is frightened of you. You heard her scream.’
‘She thinks I’m William. Of course she’s frightened. Let me talk to her. I have her son. Surely that makes a difference?’
Hemachandra Mudalali stood there, gazing at the floor, hands clasped behind his back, shifting his weight from foot to foot. Anthony stared at him, surprised at his hesitation. He doesn’t want to let her go. How preposterous. She’s a servant here, and probably works for practically nothing out of gratitude. Damn the man.
Anthony sat down and crossed his legs. He settled Daniel on his lap. Daniel opened his eyes, wriggled off Anthony’s lap and flopped on the floor. Anthony held onto Daniel’s hand. ‘Mudalali, I am not leaving here until I speak with Lakshmi.’
Hemachandra Mudalali shook his head. Turning, he walked towards the back of the house. Anthony got up and went with him. Behind him, Mrs Hemachandra took Daniel by the hand and followed them.
A slim woman stood in the kitchen, holding on to the sink. She had her back to the door. She wore a threadbare blouse and skirt. Her shoulders were bent forward, as if to protect herself from further pain. She did not turn around or raise her eyes as they entered.
‘Hello, Lakshmi,’ Anthony said, pausing at every word. ‘Can you understand me?’
Anthony leaned forward to hear her faint response. ‘I know English.’
‘Good. Lakshmi, I am Anthony Ashley-Cooper. I’m not William. I think you know that now. You must remember me from the days when I was the superintendent at Watakälé. Please don’t be afraid of me.’
She remained frozen to the spot, turned away from them, her every muscle tense. She reminded Anthony of an animal, cornered, hurt, ready to flee or maybe to bite back.
‘Lakshmi.’ Anthony kept his voice soft and low, ‘I’ve brought someone I think you’d like to meet. Your son, Lakshmi. Now my son also – Daniel.’
‘My son? But how? He was adopted. Matron said I would never see him again.’ Lakshmi swung round to face them. Even after years of hard manual labour, the clean lines of her face were evident. She must have been beautiful. Her eyes, a murky dark grey, widened with fear and surprise. Anthony flinched. The resemblance to his father was right there.
Anthony stepped aside so Lakshmi could see Mrs Hemachandra and Daniel. Mrs Hemachandra carried Daniel in and set him down to stand in front of Lakshmi.
Daniel looked up at his mother, his blue eyes wide. He tilted his head to a side and smiled. ‘Amma, Amma,’ he repeated.
‘My son –’ Lakshmi stammered. She covered her mouth with her hands. Tears filled her eyes and streaked down her cheeks. She sank down on her knees. ‘You are here. My son. My son.’
Daniel held out his arms. He toddled towards her. ‘Amma.’
Lakshmi drew him to herself and held him tight, tears flowed down her cheeks.
Hemachandra Mudalali, his wife and Anthony watched Lakshmi as she knelt there, her arms wrapped around her son, rocking him back and forth. Her tears fell unchecked on his curly brown hair. Daniel mumbled and rested his head on her chest.
This is right, Anthony thought, there’s a bond between them. Just for once, maybe I’ve done the right thing.
‘Let’s go back to the sitting room,’ he said to Hemachandra Mudalali. ‘I think they deserve some time together.’
***
Hemachandra Mudalali and Anthony sat across from each other, cups of tea before them. Mrs Hemachandra hovered at the door to the kitchen.
‘She is a good worker and a very good cook,’ Hemachandra Mudalali said. ‘Mrs Rasiah taught her English and even some mathematics. She is quite good at it, actually. I think Lakshmi and the Tea-maker’s daughter, Shiro, used to read English books and study together.’
Anthony flinched at the memory. Shiro, talking of her friend, her soul-mate.
‘Yes, she even helps with reading letters and helping me with accounts. Almost like having a secretary in the house.’ Hemachandra Mudalali continued.
‘How much do you want for her?’ Anthony’s voice grated. You criticised me when you thought I wanted a sex slave, but you’re using her too. Paying her a servant’s wage and surreptitiously using her to help in your business. You mean for me to haggle a price for her, like some commodity you pack in the back of that lorry of yours, you capitalist son of a bitch.
Hemachandra Mudalali sat back, his face shocked. ‘No, I don’t mean …’
Mrs Hemachandra marched up behind her husband, her brow furrowed, her face pinched in anger. She leaned over Hemachandra Mudalali and mumbled into his ear. Anthony smiled at the fierce tone in her voice. For all his bluster, Hemachandra Mudalali was definitely not the boss in this partnership. Hemachandra Mudalali shifted in his seat. His wife poked him in the shoulder. Still scowling, she whirled around and stormed out of the room towards the kitchen.
Hemachandra Mudalali looked at the ceiling and sighed. ‘No, you don’t have to pay for her. She deserves a chance at a better life.’
Anthony nodded.
Mrs Hemachandra came in and spoke to Hemachandra Mudalali. Anthony strained to listen. All he heard was Lakshmi, Daniel and Sinhalese words for boy, father, mother.
‘My wife says Lakshmi wants to come and talk with you,’ Hemachandra Mudalali said.
Anthony got to his feet. ‘Yes, I’d like that.’
Lakshmi was already at the kitchen door. She held Daniel in her arms. Daniel gurgled at Anthony. ‘Dada,’ he said, pointing to Anthony.
‘Mr Ashley-Cooper, Aiya.’ Lakshmi spoke in English, enunciating every word. ‘When my Daniel was born, I held him in my arms for two days. Then they took him away to the orphanage. I visited him, watched him grow. Knowing I would lose him. The day – ’
Tears filled her eyes and she hugged Daniel. ‘I thought I would die the day they told me he was adopted. I was so frightened. I thought what if someone used him as a servant? Or worse?’ Her lower lip trembled.
She took a deep breath and looked at Daniel. The love in her eyes lit up her face and the room. ‘But now I know that you are his father. You are a good man, sir. I know that. You will look after him. You have given me back my life, sir. Whatever happens now, I am happy.’ She placed Daniel in Anthony’s arms.
She then knelt in front of Anthony. She placed her hands palm down just in front of his feet and bowed down. Her forehead touched the tip of his shoes.
Anthony stepped back and looked at her. He felt sick. This is what we, the mighty British Empire, have done to the people in the plantation.
He cleared his throat and put Daniel down. She didn’t move. ‘Lakshmi,�
� he mumbled, ‘please get up. I have something more I want to say to you.’
Lakshmi stood up, wiping her eyes. The ghost of a smile wafted across her face as she looked at Daniel, who was climbing up Anthony’s legs.
‘Lakshmi,’ Anthony said, ‘You know I have adopted Daniel as my son. I am his father now. He will grow up as an Ashley-Cooper. Inherit his rightful name and place in the world.’
Lakshmi’s eyes opened wide. ‘Sir –’ She gasped, then nodded her comprehension.
‘I came to find you because the boy needs a woman to care for him.’ Anthony stopped and watched hope and fear wage war on Lakshmi’s face. ‘Lakshmi, Daniel needs his mother.’ He searched for words. ‘I’m going to Australia. Do you know where that is?’
Lakshmi nodded. ‘I have seen a world map.’
‘Good. I plan to start a new life with Daniel. I want you to come with us.’
Lakshmi’s hands flew to her mouth. She looked from Anthony to Daniel, then at Hemachandra Mudalali and Hamine. She closed her eyes and took a deep, ragged breath.
‘Aiya.’ She stared at Anthony. Her gaze was unwavering, defiant and determined. ‘I want to be with my son. I will do anything you need for that.’
Anthony looked into her eyes. She’s letting me know that she’s willing to be my mistress. This woman will truly do anything to be with her son.
Holding her gaze, he shook his head. ‘Lakshmi, I want you to look after Daniel. I am not looking for a mistress or a lover. Do you understand that?’
‘But what is there for you? Why are you doing this if not for –’
Anthony was fast losing patience. First Hemachandra Mudalali and now Lakshmi! What makes them all think that the only thing that British men wanted from native women was sex? Even as he thought it – he knew the answer. Rule Britannia!
He glanced at Hemachandra Mudalali and his wife. ‘Can I have a few minutes alone with Lakshmi?’
‘Of course.’ Hemachandra Mudalali pointed towards a small side room that looked like a storage area. Mrs Hemachandra peeled Daniel off Anthony. ‘I’ll give him something to drink. You talk.’ She marched off towards the kitchen, gesturing Hemachandra Mudalali to follow.
Anthony took Lakshmi’s arm and drew her into the room. He tightened his grip when she flinched and pulled away. Shutting the door, he took Lakshmi by the shoulders and forced her to sit down on a low stool. He squatted in front of her and spoke in an undertone. He wouldn’t put it beyond Hemachandra Mudalali to have his ear at the keyhole.
‘Lakshmi, I want you to listen carefully. What I am going to tell you is going to sound like an unbelievable story. I don’t expect you to take it all in right now. But I want you to trust me. I will explain it all later. Can you understand me?’
Lakshmi nodded.
‘Will you trust me?’
‘You are a good man,’ Lakshmi whispered.
‘Lakshmi, did you ever feel different from the other coolie girls?’
Lakshmi nodded. ‘Yes, I thought that I was not dark like the others. Also my eyes are not like a coolie.’
Anthony nodded. ‘That’s because your real father is not a coolie. Your real father is a white man, Lakshmi.’ Anthony took a deep breath. ‘Your father is James Ashley-Cooper.’
‘But, that is your name?’
‘Yes, Lakshmi. My father is James Ashley-Cooper.’
Lakshmi shrank back from him. Then stared at him with a dawning understanding. ‘That means that –’
‘That means, Lakshmi, that I am your brother. But –’ he continued quickly, seeing the understanding turn to fear in her eyes, ‘William has a different father. He is not your brother.’
Anthony smiled at the confusion on Lakshmi’s face. ‘I know, Lakshmi. It took me some time to work it all out too.’
Lakshmi’s eyes misted. ‘Shiro Chinnamma said it would happen.’
Anthony flinched. ‘Shiro?’
‘Yes, that last Christmas we were together, she waved her pretend wand and made a wish. She wished that one day a handsome man would rescue me and take me to a faraway country.’
Anthony tried to sound casual. ‘Do you hear from Shiro?’
‘Oh, yes,’ Lakshmi said. ‘She writes once every month.’ She stopped and smiled. ‘You don’t have to pretend with me. I know that you were friends.’
‘Friends. She said that?’
‘Yes, she wrote that you and she used to meet and talk after I went – was sent away. We never had secrets.’
‘Does she still write? How is she now?’
‘I haven’t had a letter for a month or so. She has friends in medical school. In her last letter she wrote about a Professor Jega.’ Lakshmi smiled. ‘I think he is in love with her.’
A shaft of agony pierced through him. Shiro was moving on. It was what he wanted for her, after all. He too, had to move on. He realised that Lakshmi was speaking to him.
‘Aiya, can I write to her? About Daniel and you?’
‘No, Lakshmi.’ Shiro must not know. She must not be hurt again. ‘Let’s leave it till we are in Australia.’
Chapter 33
June 1969 Watakälé
Only the ticking of the old grandfather clock interrupted the silence. Dusk turned to darkness and no one switched on the lights in the Tea-maker’s house. Raaken came in and left mugs of strong, sweet, milky tea next to father and son. He looked from one to the other and slunk out of the room.
Victor got up and paced across the room to stand by his father. ‘You can’t go on living like this, Dad.’ He put his mug of tea down on the side table. ‘Mum would want to know what is happening.’
Rajan leant forward. ‘No, son. No one in Colombo is to know what is happening here, especially not your mother.’
‘But you and Mum have always shared everything. Like when Shiro tried to kill herself. You went through that together. Nothing could be worse than that. Why not tell Mum how worried you are? Damn it Dad, this is serious!’
‘Tell her what, son? That the superintendent William Ashley-Cooper has cooked up evidence to frame me for theft? How do I explain to her that my assistant Tea-maker, Wright, is in cahoots with him and is fiddling the books for him? She’ll think I’m imagining it. And if she believes me, she’ll blame herself.’ Rajan Rasiah’s voice was tired and resigned.
Victor switched on a light. The glare from the naked overhead lamp made them both flinch. He pulled a stool to sit close, facing his father. ‘For heaven’s sake dad, why should she blame herself? She hardly knows the new superintendent William Ashley-Cooper. She went to Colombo with Shiro before he started here.’
Rajan Rasiah sighed. ‘Victor, there are some things we kept from you boys.’ He sat forward, his hands clasped between his knees. ‘Son, William Ashley-Cooper’s the one who raped Lakshmi. He found out that your mother and I helped Lakshmi with the pregnancy and that we sent the boy to the Salvation Army orphanage. William Ashley-Cooper is a vicious and vindictive man. I am the evidence of his actions. He wants me out. I am pretty sure he is working with the assistant Tea-maker Wright. I don’t know what hold William has over Wright, but I might as well resign before he forces my hand.’
Victor leapt up. The stool toppled over. The crash brought Raaken running into the room. ‘Dad, the plantation is your life. You can’t give up so easily. I’ll write to James Ashley-Cooper myself. William is a bastard.’
The look of calm acceptance in his father’s eyes chilled Victor’s blood. It was not like his father to not fight for his rights. ‘Calm down, son. It won’t do any good. You think I haven’t thought about it? Why do you think I have kept duplicate ledgers at home?’ He gestured to the top drawer of the cabinet. ‘But no amount of evidence will make a difference. It will be his word against mine. No one will take the side of the native against the British. Can’t you see, son? James Ashley-Cooper doesn’t care about any of
us. None of the white bastards do. They just want to rip everything from the plantations before nationalisation. That’s why he sent Anthony Ashley-Cooper back to England.’
‘But Dad –’
‘No. It’s finished.’ Rajan stood up. ‘I’ve made up my mind, son. I’ve written the resignation letter. I’ll hand it to William tomorrow morning. Then I’ll drive down to Colombo and tell Mum about it all in person. I’ve had enough of this life.’
Victor saw the tears in his father’s eyes. He reached for the telephone. ‘Dad, please, let me call Mum.’
Rajan shook his head. ‘Goodnight, son.’ He stood for a moment resting his hand on his son’s shoulder. Victor watched as his father walked into his dark and silent bedroom. He seemed a lot older than his fifty-two years.
Victor switched off the lights. He sat alone, looking out of the sitting room window at the mango tree. As children, Edward and he had built a treehouse there. Later, with Shiro, the bench under the mango tree became the place where confidences were shared and problems solved. He remembered the story of the soonyam and Raaken’s swoon.
It was dark outside. Fireflies lit up the trees like some out-of-season, ethereal Christmas decoration. With a sigh, Victor realised there would be no more Christmases in Watakälé. He would continue to work as a scientist in the Tea Research Institute at Talawakalé on the other side of the mountains. Soon he would go to England to complete his PhD. Edward would marry Lalitha after his degree in accounting. Shiro would continue her medical studies in Colombo.
A large moth flew crazily into the glass window and dropped down, its wings broken. He thought of Shiro, her enthusiasm and brightness dimmed by the depression she had suffered. Their mother said it was due to the stress of her not wanting an arranged marriage. But she was improving. He was sure she would, in her inimitable way, bounce back.
He realised that this would be the last night he would sleep in his room.
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