Sunil settled in the carved ebony and leather chair and flipped open his laptop. He launched Skype and tapped on Annie’s profile. He clicked “make video contact” and sat back, listening to the ringtone.
The cuckoo clock on the wall chimed five. It would be ten thirty at night in Sydney. Annie had texted him she would be busy in the ward all day. Tomorrow morning, she would be on a flight to Sri Lanka. They would be engaged next week and married four weeks after. He heaved a sigh of relief. Not a moment too soon. He had to make sure everything went according to plan. There was too much at stake.
Annie smiled at him. ‘Good evening, from down under.’
Her face on the computer screen was clean scrubbed and free of all makeup. She looked tired—and lovely.
Sunil schooled his face, and smiled at his bride-to-be, a smile that started at the corners of his lips and dimpled his cheeks before moving to crinkle the corners of his eyes. It was a smile cultivated to set female hearts a-flutter.
Annie sat cross-legged on her rumpled bed. She had showered and her freshly towelled hair tumbled to below her waist. ‘No need to turn on the charm offensive for me, Nilo,’ she said with a roll of her eyes and a chuckle. ‘I helped you perfect that grin for your first date, remember?’
‘You have to stop calling me Nilo, Annie. We’re to be married soon, and—’
Her eyes darkened, ‘Why? I have called you Nilo since you were a little buck-toothed nuisance, chasing me through the tea bushes.’
‘I never did catch you for a kiss in the tea bushes.’
They stared at each other. ‘Okay let’s be all grown up.’ Annie bit her lip and sighed. ‘Nilo—Sunil, does this all feel weird to you?’
‘Weird? What are you talking about?’
‘We—you and I getting married. Do you feel like, maybe, we are too close, like brother and sister?’
His heart rate quickened. Sunil struggled to control the panic roiling in his stomach. She must not see his anxiety. ‘Annie, darling—’ He kissed his finger tips and placed it on the screen— ‘We are soul mates, not siblings. You have always known that we were meant to be together.’
‘True, we grew up assuming we would get married. You and I both know that it was our parents’ dream, not ours, Nil—Sunil. Haven’t you ever wondered about passion and love? Have you felt desire for another woman?’
Seated in his air-conditioned apartment, a trickle of sweat ran down his spine. ‘Come on, Annie. We love each other. We always have.’
‘It’s different Ni—Sunil, and you know it.’
She couldn’t pull out now. He wouldn’t let her. ‘Annie, I can’t believe you of all people would feel pre-wedding jitters. The affection and care you feel for me will grow into love and passion. I promise you, Annie. Trust me.’
‘How can you promise?’
‘Because, I love you, Annie, enough for the two of us. I love your naughty, teasing mannerisms and your energy. You are brilliant and patient and loving. Darling, you and I are meant for each other. I need you in my life and I will support your dreams both in Australia and here in Lanka, just as I’ve promised. Please, don’t worry about our marriage.’
He had to make her believe him. He had too much to lose.
‘It’s a lovely thing for you to say. But, you love the girl I was when we were together six years ago. You may hate me when we meet face to face at Katunayake airport tomorrow.’
He shook his head. ‘Never.’
‘We’ll see.’ Annie shook her head and yawned. ‘I need to go finish my packing. I’ll see you tomorrow—or whenever.’
‘I love you.’
‘Love you too.’ She yawned again and switched her laptop off.
Sunil dropped his head in his hand.
Memories of the past clawed into his present. Annie and him racing through the tea bushes. Jumping into the water and coming home to the combined wrath of their parents. The day when she was fifteen and she asked him to kiss her. Then wiped her mouth and pronounced it awful. He had loved her then and loved her now. He wanted her as his wife. Just not like this. He would have been overjoyed with anticipation if the circumstances were different.
He looked around his apartment, the opulence of his surroundings blurred by a film of tears. He remembered how happy and proud he had been when he signed the deeds to the property three years ago. A fifth-floor three bedroom apartment in a brand new security block in Colpetty, the prestigious beachside suburb of Colombo.
The furniture had come with the apartment. He glanced at the embroidered cushions on the red leather and ebony couch. His eyes drifted around the room to take everything in: the painting of a tea plantation by the top Sri Lankan artist; the glass doored cupboard with the crystal ware he never used; the state of the art entertainment system he had no time to enjoy; and finally, the item every successful young entrepreneur needed in his sitting room, an elliptical cross trainer.
He had attained what he had always aspired to. It brought him no happiness. It was a gilded prison.
His phone pinged. Caller ID read ‘Palitha’, but that wasn’t his real name. Few people knew this.
He thumbed accept.
‘Hello, Machan. How are you?’ The intimate term of address as cousin annoyed Sunil. His fingers tightened on the phone.
‘I’m okay.’
‘You don’t sound happy, Machan. Did you talk to the doctor? What time is her flight landing?’
‘It’s the midnight flight from Sydney and Singapore.’
‘Are you going to meet her? Do you want some company?’
‘No, thanks for offering.’ He forced himself to express the same level of intimacy. ‘Machan, I am going with her mother.’
‘The doctor will be impressed with your Chrysler convertible.’ Palitha chuckled. ‘We’ll all go out soon. In a couple of days, when she is over the jet lag.’
‘Yes, Machan, that would be good.’
‘I’ll book a table for the gang at the Blue Leopard for Saturday.’
‘I will ask Annie and let you know.’
‘No—no need to confirm, just come—’ he paused— ‘and Sunil—’ his laughter echoed, loud and sarcastic— ‘Machan, don’t forget, your future depends on your marrying her.’
Not only his future. More likely his very life.
Chapter 4
‘You have a nice figure for a sari blouse, Annie.’ The dressmaker pinned the hem of the blouse. She turned Annie around. ‘You should have allowed me to give you a deeper neckline, child. And a little higher hem on your blouse also to show your nice waist. We want people to admire your figure, no?’
Annie stood before the full length mirror, dressed in the long white satin underskirt and off white sari silk blouse. She bit her lip to suppress a giggle. What a dressmaker in Sri Lanka considered a nice figure, was one with breasts generous enough to not need enhancement with strategically placed darts in the sari blouse or require a padded bra. One where the fall of the six metres of silk sari material would drape over the shoulder in an attractive manner while it drew attention to the curvaceous figure of the wearer. A nice blouse also showed an expanse of back and midriff — preferably with the naval exposed.
‘Thank you, Aunty Leela.’ Since coming back home to Sri Lanka, she had assumed the custom of addressing all older women as Aunty and older men as Uncle. ‘The fit is perfect.’
The dressmaker cupped Annie’s face in her work worn hands. ‘God bless you, Annie. I wish your father was alive to see you now—’ she paused — ‘your grandmother also. Achchi would have been so happy you finally agreed on the marriage to Sunil.’
Annie rolled her eyes and grimaced. ‘Aunty Leela, it feels like Sunil and I have been in an arranged marriage since we were toddlers.’
‘Annie—’ her mother bustled into the room, ‘hurry up and finish with the wedding sari fitting, and get int
o some nice clothes. Sunil called. He wants to pick you up for the day. He mentioned a drive down south to the beach.’
‘Mum,’ Annie moaned, ‘the engagement party went on until after midnight last night. I want to rest and spend some time with you today.’ She unzipped the skirt and stepped out of it.
‘Come, I will help you.’ The dressmaker helped her remove the multiple little hooks that held the front of her sari blouse together.
‘Duwe, daughter, after six years away, you need time to get to know him better. You and I can talk in the evening.’ She opened Annie’s suitcase and lifted out a sky blue cotton lace midi dress. ‘Wear this, it looks really nice.’
‘Mum, nobody wears a lace dress for a day at the beach.’ She reached into her bag and pulled out a pair of jeans and a T-shirt. ‘This is more like beach wear.’
‘No, this is Sri Lanka. You must look pretty for your husband-to-be.’ She wrestled the jeans and T-shirt away from Annie and handed her the dress.
It wasn’t worth arguing with her mum when she was in this mood.
‘This is Sunil we are talking about, Mum.’ Annie grumbled. ‘We bathed naked together as kids, and played doctor as children. Since when have I needed to dress up and seduce him?’ She slipped into the dress.
Her mother picked up Annie’s left hand and pointed to the ring on her fourth finger. ‘Since you accepted this engagement ring from him last night.’ She stroked Annie’s cheek. ‘Don’t look so anxious, Duwe. Like you said, this is Sunil. He is a man now—not the boy you remember. Give yourself this month before the wedding to get to know him. If he wants to romance you, then let him.’
The dressmaker gathered the wedding clothes together. ‘I will bring the finished skirt and blouse on Sunday.’ She held Annie’s hand in hers. ‘You will be a radiant bride.’ She turned to Annie’s mother. ‘I will see myself out Mrs Samarasinghe.’
Her mother put her arm around Annie’s shoulder. ‘Kunju,’ she said, her tone and the use of the childhood endearment bringing tears to Annie’s eyes. ‘What are you worried about?’
Annie perched on the edge of the bed. Her mother sat close to her and hugged her. ‘Duwe, your father asked you, on his deathbed, to continue his dream of the neuromuscular rehabilitation centre. I know how that promise has driven your decisions and your life. You also knew that he wanted you to marry Sunil. But, you have been away a long time—’ she stopped, pulled back and stared into Annie’s eyes. ‘Is there someone else you are interested in? A man in Australia?’
‘No, Mum.’ Annie blinked away the memory of a masked face, sensuous lips and suntanned skin. The dimple that flickered in his cheek. A man whose touch had made her senses sing for a few hours. ‘No, there is no one. I was too busy at work to meet anyone.’
‘Then what, Duwe. What is bothering you?’
‘Mum, He—Sunil, he’s so different to what I expected.’
‘He has grown up. He’s a man now, Duwe, and he works hard. It’s been six years—’
Annie shook her head, ‘No, Mum, it’s not that. I can’t understand the life he leads, the people he moves with.’ She lifted her left hand and stared at the engagement ring. ‘Even this ring. For goodness sakes, the star sapphire alone would have cost the earth, and to have it surrounded with diamonds, it’s madness!’ She got up and paced across the room to the window. She watched as Sunil’s car swung down the drive of the house. ‘Look at his car—who drives a white Chrysler convertible in the dust and pollution of Colombo?’
‘Duwe —’
She swung back to face her mother. ‘Where does he get the money to live like he does? I talked to his mother last night. Aunty Sirima said tea prices were down and the labour unions were making them pay higher wages to the labourers. She said they would have been forced to sell the plantation if not for Sunil. Apparently, Sunil also took over the reins of the gem business from his father when gem prices dropped during the ethnic war.’
She turned back to the window.
Her mother got off the bed and came to stand by her. ‘Aiyoo, darling, don’t worry so much. Ask Sunil. You two have always shared every little thing since you were children. He will tell you.’
Sunil swung open the door of the car and slid out. The sculpted muscles of his arms and thighs were accentuated by the tailored blue cotton trousers and tight fitted linen shirt. The sunlight glinted on the curly black hair, parted on the left and swept back. His whole persona was too perfect, as if he were emulating some Bollywood star.
He slipped off his sunglasses and raised his left hand. His smile was slow and deliberate. The same one he used on the skype calls. Today, it looked pretentious—put-on. It was so very different to the cheeky grin of the friend she had grown up with. The boy she had trusted and loved.
‘Aunty Sirima said Sunil makes enough money to keep the estate going. She seemed vague on how he did it.’
Her mother picked up the hairbrush and ran it through Annie’s hair.
‘Mum, what happened to the half share you and dad had in the tea plantation?’
Her mother cleared her throat. ‘I sold it to Sunil three years ago. He makes good money, Duwe. Now, stop making up worries and put on some makeup.’
‘Mum, why didn’t you tell me?’
‘Later, Duwe,’ her mother hurried out of the bedroom.
She heard her address Sunil. ‘Sorry to make you wait, putha, son, she is still dressing. You know how girls are, no? Wants to look good for you.’
‘Aunty,’ he replied, ‘I have waited for Annie all my life, a few minutes extra won’t matter.’
Annie rolled her eyes. Really. Waited for her indeed. What utter crap. As his confidante, she knew all about his grog, girls and gambling lifestyle—well, up until she last saw him anyway. Today, she would have to coax the information of the last six years out of him.
She powdered her face and slicked on lip gloss.
Sunil was rich, handsome and charming, he was also willing to support her in her career. She should be thrilled that he was taking so much trouble and time to entertain her—even romance her, but a sense of unease persisted. There was something not quite right. She had to find out what it was.
In the recesses of her mind, she heard the echo of a mocking voice. ‘Never accept anyone at face value. They rarely are what they seem. Charm usually covers some ulterior motive.’
Chapter 5
‘My beautiful wife,’ Sunil bent to touch his lips to her forehead.
‘Not your wife as yet, Sunil.’ Annie sidestepped his arms and walked to the passenger side door of the car. She opened the door and slipped in, ‘A couple more weeks to go.’
‘All the same, darling.’ Sunil sat in the driver’s seat and reached over to help her with the seat belt. ‘We signed the register last night, so we are married in the eyes of the law.’ He started the car and turned to wave to her mother.
Annie settled back in the cream leather seat. ‘Maybe, but we’re not married in the eyes of God. Yesterday’s legal stuff was done so I could submit the papers for you to move to Australia.’
His left hand came off the steering wheel and covered hers. ‘You’re such a romantic idealist, Annie.’ His fingers caressed hers. ‘I love you for it.’
The condescension in his voice irked her. She bit back a sarcastic response.
‘There was a time when we shared the same ideals, Sunil.’ She kept her voice controlled.
He raised her fingers to his lips. ‘Ideals and dreams won’t bring success in life, Annie, hard work and determination will. You’ve been away. You can’t understand what it takes to be a success in Sri Lanka.’
She thought of the hard work and determination that had taken her from a Sri Lankan medical graduate to a surgeon and neuromuscular physician in England and then Australia. Annie pushed down the angry retort.
‘As always, I can read your thoughts, Annie.
’ Sunil kissed the fingers he held. ‘Of course I am aware of how hard you studied to get where you are. Why else do you think I am willing to come with you to Australia, leaving my colleagues to run the business here?’
‘I do appreciate it,’ she mumbled, caught off guard. ‘It will be only for three years.’
‘When you are finished in Australia,’ he continued, caressing her fingers, ‘we’ll come home and have a house in a prestigious part of Colombo, we can have as many servants as you want, a nanny for every child, and you can entertain—’
‘I don’t need a house in the most expensive Colombo suburb, or the high life, Sunil.’
‘We will have the money for it, darling, so why not?’
He turned the car off the lane and onto Galle Road. The Chrysler joined the crush and clamour of buses, passenger vans, and cars. Cursing in Sinhalese, Sunil sounded the horn and swung the car around trishaws and jaywalking pedestrians.
She slipped her hand out of his. ‘Sunil,’ she began, reaching out to stroke the wood panelling in the car with her left hand. The star in the midnight blue sapphire on her ring gleamed in the morning sunlight. ‘Speaking of making money, how hard did you have to work to get this car? And—’ she wiggled her finger— ‘this rock on my finger?’
His fingers tightened on the steering wheel. ‘I am involved in the three successful industries in Sri Lanka, Annie: tea, gems and tourism.’ Sunil turned to her, unconcerned with the standstill traffic outside the car. ‘You, my lovely wife, will never have to worry about finances. Just concentrate on doctoring.’
‘Tea and gems I understand, but tourism. What do you do? Offer international visitors trips to plantations and gem mines?’
‘No, nothing so boring. I jumped on a new trend—educational tourism.’
‘What do people come to Sri Lanka to learn? Culture? Cooking? Colonial history?’
He didn’t answer for a few seconds.
As they drove through the outer suburbs of the capital Colombo, the traffic thinned. A press of a button and the hinged bonnet of the Chrysler glided back.
Snowy Summer Page 3