‘The reverse: we arrange for girls and boys to study abroad. There are lots of people willing to pay money to study in Australia, England and America.’
‘Australian universities love international students—’
‘Anyway, darling,’ he cut her off mid-sentence, ‘don’t bother your pretty head with these business things. Relax and enjoy the day.’ He patted her hand.
She squirmed in the leather seat.
The boy she knew and loved had grown into an arrogant chauvinist. It made her uncomfortable, no—worse, it made her sick to think of making a life with him.
She made a snap decision, she would give their relationship two weeks. At the end of two weeks, if she felt the same unease, she would go back to Australia and ask for an annulment of their marriage.
Meanwhile, she would enjoy the day. Like her mother had advised, she would get to know him and share her plans for the future. Maybe, she could make him see their marriage as an equal partnership, and get him to explain his business dealings to her.
She owed it to her father to try her very best to make a success of her relationship with Sunil.
Annie sat back and let the wind blow through her hair. ‘Where are we going, Sunil?’
The powerful car ate up the kilometres. Sunil’s whole body seemed to uncoil and relax. The eager expression on his face brought back memories of the boy she knew.
‘A beachside hotel I know in Bulatwatté, you’ll love it. I go there when I want to get away.’
She wondered what he needed to get away from.
It was almost noon when they drove into the village of Bulatwatté. The sky was an intense blue and the trees the vibrant green of the tropics after a shower. The roads bore the wet oil slick of rain.
Little children waved and older folk pointed at the white Chrysler as it cruised through the collection of shops and little brick and tile houses that made up the village.
Sunil eased his foot off the accelerator and turned right onto a paved seaward road at a large roadside sign with the words “Whispering Palms”.
The hotel was set right on the beach. It had the appearance of a collection of coconut frond thatched huts, interconnected with covered walkways. The artificial mud and wattle walls were painted shades of blue and green, and blended with the coconut palms. The expanse of golden sand and violet-blue water stretched out from the hotel into the horizon.
It looked like a seaside fishing village, sterilised of the smell and muck.
A young man, in a batik sarong and white starched shirt, stood at the entrance to the hotel. ‘Ayubowan, greetings, Sir, Madam, I am Bandula.’ He turned to Sunil, ‘we got your booking, Sir.’ He placed his palms together, chest high, in the traditional Sri Lankan greeting. ‘I will have my man park the car, Sir.’ He accepted the keys to the Chrysler and handed it to another young man dressed like him. He turned back to Sunil and Annie. ‘Would you like a table on the beach?’
‘Wonderful,’ Sunil replied. ‘Please give us one with some privacy.’
‘Yes, Sir. Of course, Sir.’
They followed Bandula down a stone paved corridor with a thatched roof. Exotic orchids and jasmine bushes bloomed on either side. The colour and perfume was a heady mix. Annie breathed deep and let the tension in her mind and muscles melt away.
Bandula pushed aside a thick curtain and ushered them into a room built and decorated to look like a fisherman’s cottage, though more sophisticated. Fishing nets that had never been dunked into the ocean hung from the ceiling and below them, in the centre of the room, was a simple wooden table with carefully placed rush tablemats. Two hand-hewn chairs sat by the table and faced out towards the open glass doors, where the polished brown cement floor seamlessly blended with the beach. At the back of the room, an antique teak couch was covered with silk cushions.
Annie gazed out into the sun and surf. It surpassed all the beaches she was familiar with in Australia: Bondi, Manly, and Freshwater. But, in this busy seaside town, it was completely empty. She turned to Bandula, ‘Where are the people?’
‘People!’ He all but bristled. ‘Private beach, Madam. We are not allowing beggars and riff-raff to disturb our guests.’
Sunil slipped what looked like a five hundred rupee note into Bandula’s palm. ‘Thank you, Bandula. This is perfect.’
A young girl, dressed in the traditional redha-hatta, skirt and blouse, came in with two king coconuts, both cut open with straws inserted. ‘Complementary Thambili.’ She glanced from one to the other. ‘Coconut water,’ she explained.
‘We’re locals,’ Sunil said, slipping his arm around Annie’s waist. ‘Celebrating our marriage.’
Bandula’s eyes widened. ‘Honeymoon, Sir, Madam?’
‘Close,’ Sunil’s arm tightened around Annie.
‘Congratulations, Sir, Madam.’ Bandula produced a scroll of paper tied with a ribbon, and placed it on the table. ‘The menu, sir. When you want to order, please press the button at the side of the door. No-one will disturb you otherwise. If you want more privacy—’ he gestured to the doors open to the beach— ‘just pull the curtain.’ He pointed to batik linen curtains, held back with rope ties. ‘Please enjoy.’ With another hands-together salute, he and the girl left the room.
She stood still and erect, every muscle in her body taut. ‘Why did you tell him we are married?’ she snapped.
‘Because we are, Annie.’ He turned her to face him and drew her close.
His lips silenced her exclamation of protest. With one hand twisted in her hair, he slid the other down her body, moulding her to him. Annie forced herself to relax, and accept his caresses. This was her fiancé. She should learn to enjoy his touch. She opened her lips to his teasing tongue.
She felt no stirring of desire, no heightening of her senses. Her mind spiralled back to another place and time.
‘Let me give you something to take back to your arranged marriage.’
She turned her face away, breaking free of his lips. ‘Sunil, please stop. I’m not ready for this.’
‘I want you, Annie,’ he whispered in her ear.
‘You—want—’ she pulled back and stared into his eyes. ‘You planned this.’ She gasped, ‘the romantic hotel, the private room—’ she glanced at the couch— ‘you actually think I am stupid enough to be seduced by all this—’ she gestured around the room— ‘to make love to you before we are married. Sunil, what do you think I am?’ She pulled away from him.
His eyes darkened, then flickered with a deeper emotion. Anxiety? Fear? Whatever it was—it wasn’t passion, or love.
‘Sunil.’ She stepped out of reach of his arms. ‘You don’t want me—not right now, anyway.’
He caught her hands in his. ‘I love you, Annie. I need you.’
‘Need, maybe—but you don’t feel desire for me.’
He reached for her.
‘Sunil, no. I may be a virgin, it doesn’t mean I haven’t been held and kissed. I am a doctor.’
‘What do you mean?’
She took a step back and framed her words carefully. ‘Sunil. I do believe you love me. We are engaged to be married in a couple of weeks. What I don’t understand is why you feel this need to seduce me?’ She glanced at his groin. ‘I am also absolutely sure that right now, you feel no sexual desire or arousal towards me.’
Chapter 6
Annie stared into the dregs at the bottom of her teacup. ‘If we had been Buddhists or Hindus, the horoscopes would have been compared and we would know if I would be happy with Sunil. How simple that would be!’
She sat with Reverend Bob Kirkland and his wife Grace in the manse of Bambalawatte Methodist Church.
‘Marriage is more than finding happiness and personal fulfilment, Annie. And, you and I both know that the magical powers of matching horoscopes has nothing to do with it.’ Bob reached across the tea table to touch h
er arm. His eyes misted. ‘We knew your parents well when we were stationed at the church in Nuwara-Eliya. We helped your and Sunil’s parents settle down when they first purchased the estate. Grace and I watched Sunil and you grow from the time you were little bairns playing together in the tea bushes.’ He stopped and chuckled, ‘there was always so much love between the two of you. Although, as I remember, you and he were very different.’
‘Yes,’ Grace said, her soft voice dredging up long hidden memories in Annie’s mind. ‘You were happy to chase dragonflies and sit by the river reading, and Sunil—’ she paused— ‘he always wanted things.’
Annie nodded. ‘The newest toy, PlayStation, or computer game. Then, in our teens, he wanted the designer jeans and shoes. And his parents—aunty and uncle gave in to him every time.’
‘He came to see me two months ago to book the Bambalawatte Methodist Church for your wedding.’ Bob’s voice was laden with gentle care. ‘He hasn’t changed much, has he?’
‘He has an up-market apartment with flashy furniture.’
Grace laughed. ‘We saw it when we dropped by to get the papers signed.’
‘His clothes, the Chrysler, and even—’ she waved her left hand— ‘this diamond and sapphire ring: it’s all so pretentious. He splashes money around, but won’t tell me where he gets it. He says its business and I shouldn’t bother about it.’
Bob nodded. ‘Your mum talked to me after Bible study. Apparently, his parents are worried about the friends he keeps.’
‘Don’t go there.’ Annie scowled. ‘We’ve been out with them a couple of times. They’re pompous, self-opinionated new-rich businessmen, with wives who look like a cross between sex workers and Sri Lankan Barbie dolls. Sunil acts different when he’s with them. He pretends to enjoy their sleazy comments and sexist jokes. He even wants one of the guys, Palitha, to be his best man. I wouldn’t tolerate it, if we were to live in Sri Lanka after we are married.’
Grace moved to sit beside Annie on the couch. ‘Darling, Bob and I know the reasons why you are doing this—’ she stopped and glanced at her husband. ‘Annie, are you sure you want to go ahead with the wedding?’
Annie looked at Grace and Bob. ‘When I came to Sri Lanka from Australia, I felt confident I could make it work. Now, I am not sure. I’ve decided to give myself a week more to make up my mind.’
‘Have you told Sunil?’ Bob leant forward to take her hand.
She shook her head. ‘No, I haven’t. Only because I still feel confused. I care for him, and sometimes, when we are together, he is attentive, affectionate, even protective, and I can see a future for us as husband and wife. At other times, there is something else, an undercurrent I don’t understand, as if marrying me is something he needs to do—rather than wants to. Even worse, when he’s with his cronies, he treats me like some sort of trophy wife.’
Grace took Annie’s other hand in hers. ‘What do you plan to do this week to clarify your feelings?’
‘I’m going to show him how much I care for him, and see if he will open up and talk to me.’ She stood up. ‘In fact, I think I’ll start right now.’
Bob and Grace stood up with her. ‘We will pray that God will give you the wisdom to do what is right, Annie.’ Bob laid a hand on her shoulder. ‘Remember, when you make your marriage vows in church, you will promise to love, honour and care for Sunil until death.’
Annie reached forward to take Grace’s hand in hers. ‘I have good role models for marriage, both in my parents, and you.’
Grace kissed Annie on her cheek. ‘Remember, we are always here for you.’
Annie hugged them both and ran down the steps of the manse to her car.
Her thoughts drifted to her grandmother, her parents. They had attended church here together when she was a child. Her father’s, and soon after, her grandmother’s funerals had been conducted here. She remembered how Sunil had stood by her on those days, holding her as she sobbed.
She blinked back tears. No point dwelling on the past. This journey to Colombo was about the future. A fulfilment of her father’s final wish. Her grandmother’s dreams for her life.
Annie paused with her hand on the car door. She was a twenty first century professional. Surely, she could find a way to fulfil her father’s dream, now her own, without marriage.
She heard Monica’s words in her ears, ‘You were eighteen when you made the promise to your father. If he were alive today, he wouldn’t expect you to keep to it.’
And, another sensuous male voice, ‘You are an Australian. You don’t need an arranged marriage with a man you hardly know.’
She slipped into the driver’s seat of the Toyota Corolla and, with a wave to Bob and Grace, pulled onto Galle Road.
She would work on her relationship with Sunil. A week wasn’t a long time.
Three weeks in Colombo had given her time to familiarise herself with the outrageous driving habits of the people. Today, for the first time, her mother had given her permission to leave the chauffer at home and drive the car herself. Dodging around the traffic, three wheelers, buses, jaywalking pedestrians and stray dogs, Annie joined the slow moving stream of vehicles in the business district of Colombo.
The large yellow circle with the ‘P&S’ on the front of a building brought back memories of childhood. She swung the car to the left and slipped between two other cars parked on the gravel edge of the road which formed the parking lot for Perera and Sons Caterers.
She glanced at her watch. It was ten am. Sunil had told her he would be working from home today, and they were to meet in the evening for dinner. She’d drop in and surprise him. He would be happy to see her.
When Sunil and she were young, he just eight years old, and she five, their favourite sweet had been P&S chocolate éclairs. Sunil would pretend he wanted her to share his and then, just as she bent forward for a bite, smear the chocolate cream on her face. It was a joke she fell for every time. She ran into the store and bought half a dozen of the largest. She would stop by his flat and share it with him, just for old times’ sake.
She pulled up at the gate of his apartment complex in Colpetty and punched in the entry code he had given her. Waving to the guard, she followed the drive to park in front of Sunil’s block. She pressed the entry button to apartment five, surprised when Sunil buzzed her in without asking who it was. Well, he probably had seen her drive up. She jumped in the lift and rode up to the fifth floor.
Annie tapped on the door. ‘The door is open.’ The barked command in Sinhalese surprised her. They always talked in English. She pushed the door open. The drawing room was empty. Sunil was seated at his table in the study. He looked up, stared at her, and leapt out of his chair. He strode towards her. ‘Annie! What the heck are you doing here?’
She flinched at the sharpness of his voice. ‘Well, hello, to you too, Sunil.’ She put the éclairs down on the dining table. ‘I wanted to surprise you—’
A chime indicated someone at the security door downstairs.
‘Ammata—’ Sunil swore in Sinhalese. He grabbed her arm and pushed her into the study. ‘Just stay there until I finish my meeting,’ he hissed. ‘Be quiet.’ He slammed shut the door to the study.
Listening through the closed door, she heard him buzz his visitors in and welcome them in Sinhalese.
Annie slipped into the chair Sunil had just vacated and glanced at the computer screen. It was open to the international undergraduate student application page of the University of Sydney. Probably research for the educational tourism work he had told her about.
Her eyes dropped to the desk, ‘What the—’ She muffled her exclamation.
The two bottom drawers to the side of the desk were actually not drawers at all. They had been slid aside to form a false front to a space behind. In it sat a small safe, the door ajar. With a glance at the shut study door, she eased the safe door open.
A clut
ch of passports. She bent and opened one, and then another. A chill speared through her. The front page of each of the six passports had airbrushed snapshots of Sunil. Each just a little different in looks with different names and dates of birth.
‘What the—’
She grabbed her mobile phone and started taking pictures. She flipped through the documents under the passports. There were letters of acceptance to a range of courses in Australian Universities with names on them—female names. The documents looked official, except the university crests didn’t look quite authentic. She was very familiar with the Sydney University’s crest and this one was definitely not right. She took pictures of them too.
She picked up an envelope and tipped out the contents.
‘Dear God.’ Annie smothered a gasp. Her stomach churned in astonishment. These were not passport or university admission photos. They were stylised sexual poses of scantily dressed young Sri Lankan women, more pornography than identity or passport photos. After a quick glance at the closed door, Annie photographed these too.
Chairs scraped back and voices were raised in Sinhalese goodbyes. Annie put the pictures back in the envelope and replaced everything in the safe, leaving the door ajar as she had found it.
She walked to the door and swung it open just as the two men were leaving. They stopped at the door and stared at her.
One man was built like an ape. The bulging muscles and shaved head reminded her of club bouncers in Sydney. He was dressed in a pair of shiny synthetic trousers and a long sleeve shirt rolled up to the elbow to exhibit muscular tattooed forearms. ‘Who is this?’ he grunted, in Sinhalese.
She recognised the other man as Palitha’s sidekick Charlie. Hand outstretched, Charlie stepped up to her. Annie accepted his handshake, ‘How nice to see you again, Annie. We must go to the Blue Leopard Night Club again.’ He swung his gaze to Sunil. ‘Why are you hiding her in the office, Machan? She will be part of the business when you are married, no?’
Sunil flinched. ‘I know what I am doing.’
Snowy Summer Page 4