Snowy Summer

by Patricia Weerakoon

  ‘Xav,’ she asked, ashamed at the quiver in her voice, ‘why do you have to take me away like this? In such secrecy?’

  ‘Ram, once it gets out how you have passed on the information you picked up from your boyfriend, there will be people who want you dead. You brought it to a head by finding out about the plantation activity this morning.’

  ‘Sunil—’

  ‘Forget you ever knew him. Stop even thinking about the life you have led before today.’

  ‘My job in Sydney—’

  A shadow emerged from the dark, and the sea boiled white in its wake. A spotlight swept the ocean and fixed on them. ‘Damn, navy patrol.’ He looked at Annie. ‘Remember Ram, we are Tamil fishermen.’ He cut the motor and brought the boat to a stop.

  ‘Navathinu. Halt.’ The dark, menacing hulk of the vessel dwarfed the little fishing boat and set it pitching in the waves. ‘Identity?’ A man in white uniform flashed a light in Ro’s face.

  ‘Sir, we are fishing, sir.’ Ro answered in Tamil, his voice humble and hesitant. He then repeated it in stilted, broken, Tamil accented Sinhalese. ‘I and my brothers are from Talaimannar, Sir.’ He held out three tattered plastic cards with photographs and names. The navy officer grunted, He swung the beam on Xav and on her. He turned, and shouted something to his fellow officers on the boat. The patrol boat turned and headed away from the fishing boat.

  Ro chuckled.

  In about thirty minutes, which to Annie felt like hours, they pulled up at a jetty. ‘We’re at Dhanushkodi.’ Ro said, helping her off the boat. He pointed to a black van parked under a tree. ‘We have another three hour drive to Madurai. We will leave you there.’ He helped her into the back seat of the van. ‘Sleep, Annie. You’re going to need all the strength you can muster to get through the next couple of days.’

  Ro and Xav dropped her off at a house in Madurai. There, she was met by an old couple who spoke English with a rolling Indian accent. They handed her a change of clothes. Fresh creased trousers and a silk blouse with a light linen jacket, fresh underwear, basic toiletries and makeup and a spacious leather handbag. Her passport and wallet, which she had handed to Ro at the plantation, were in the handbag, together with boarding passes for Qantas flights from Madurai to Sydney. She flipped open her wallet. Money only. Australian dollars. No credit cards, no Medicare or other documents. She rummaged in the bag. No mobile phone either.

  She shuddered to think what this might mean.

  Chapter 10

  Sunil grabbed the master key and dashed back down the corridor. He pushed open the door. ‘Annie, I’m sorry, I would never hurt you. You know that. I love you.’ Sunil skidded to a stop and stared at the empty room.

  The red cabin bag in which she had packed her clothes lay open. Her makeup was scattered on the dressing table. The blue sapphire engagement ring glittered beside her bottle of perfume.

  The lace curtains fluttered at the open window. She must have climbed out through it. He ran over and leant out. The flower bed outside was trampled, his mother’s favourite purple orchids crushed.

  She had nowhere to go. She couldn’t have taken the Chrysler. He patted his pocket, yes, he still had the car keys. He could see the old family Holden parked in front of the garage. There was no other form of transport on the tea plantation.

  Annie’s mother was friends with the tea maker’s wife, maybe she had gone there.

  He had to find her, and apologise for his horrible behaviour.

  She must not call off the marriage. He had to convince her to change her mind.

  Meanwhile, he had to explain the situation to his mother and father.

  He shoved Annie’s clothes and toiletries into her bag and snapped it shut. He climbed out of the open window, ran to the Chrysler and shoved the bag in the boot.

  He jogged round the house to the kitchen, and came to a halt outside the kitchen door.

  ‘Aiyoo,’ his mother screamed. ‘I knew I should not have trusted that man. How do we know Siri Appu sent him? He must be some rogue or someone. Raja, go check the jewellery. And the ornaments. He must have taken things and gone.’

  ‘Sirima,’ his father’s voice was, as always, cautious and patient, ‘the man may have just gone to the shop. You know, we don’t have any valuable things in the house. What isn’t sold is in the bank. Anyway—’

  ‘Look,’ his mother’s voice rose in volume, ‘his clothes are still there in the bag. Why will a poor man leave without his clothes? Tell me that? I knew we shouldn’t have hired him. I told you—’

  ‘Sirima, calm down. You don’t want to upset the children.’

  ‘Want to upset the children? I tell you, Raja, Annie is not happy already. She was asking all these questions about the estate and how we are managing. Also about the gem business and why you have left it all to Sunil to run. Now we can’t even give her a proper lunch.’

  Sunil stood with his hand on the handle of the kitchen door.

  Karu, a man who had turned up out of the blue, had disappeared at the same time as Annie. Maybe she had been kidnapped by Palitha. No. Palitha wouldn’t do that. He wanted Sunil married and in Australia with her. He would not jeopardise the operation by taking her now.

  A chill swept through him. A memory of shoving Annie into his office, the safe open in his office desk. Annie, asking him if he was okay, begging him to talk to her.

  If she had seen the contents of the safe, she would have drawn her own conclusions of what he was involved in. If she was suspicious about his activities, then Karu might be from somewhere else.

  Sunil pushed open the kitchen door. First, he had to brazen this out with his parents.

  ‘Amma, Thathi,’ he addressed his parents in Sinhalese. ‘I am afraid —’

  His mother rushed across the kitchen and grabbed his arm. ‘See what happens when you employ people without knowing. Thathi—’ she pointed her finger at his father— ‘will trust anybody. For all we know, those letters must have been forged. Although,’ she rambled on, with a glance at the left over hoppers from breakfast, ‘he was a good cook.’

  ‘Amma, please, we need to talk,’ Sunil interrupted his mother..

  ‘You two talk, I’m going to my study.’ His father tucked up his sarong and walked to the kitchen door.’

  Sunil shook his head. ‘No, thathi, I need to speak to you both.’

  Ignoring his words, his mother opened the refrigerator. ‘Aiyoo, what can we have for lunch.’

  Sunil raised his voice. He switched to English. ‘Will you two listen to me?’ he shouted. ‘This is important.’

  Both his parents fell silent.

  ‘Putha, son. What is the matter? You are upset,’ his mother crooned.

  ‘Annie and I are leaving for Colombo. Now.’

  ‘But—but why? Did we say something? Do something?’ his mother’s eyes filled with tears, ‘I must go and say I am sorry.’

  Sunil grabbed his mother’s arm to stop her from rushing off in search of Annie. ‘No. She is already in the car. We had a talk. She wants to postpone the wedding.’

  ‘Put off the wedding?’ his mother wailed. ‘The invitations are all printed and sent. I have bought my sari also. I will talk to her.’

  Sunil kept a hold on her arm. ‘No, you will make things worse. She is upset, and I told her you and Thathi will not try to make her change her mind. When we go to Colombo, her mother, Aunty Priyanthi will talk to her.’

  He looked at his father. ‘Thathi, both of you please stay here. Don’t come out.’

  His father nodded. ‘I realised at breakfast she wasn’t happy. Go, putha, we will stay here until you both drive away.’

  ‘What are you saying, Raja? You are mad, no. We can’t just—’

  ‘Sirima—’ his father took her arm in a firm hold and gestured towards the back door with his head— ‘for once, shut up and let Sunil do whatever
needs to be done.’

  Sunil dashed out of the kitchen and jumped into the car. He drove by the tea-maker’s house. The tea-maker’s wife was in the garden. Sunil slowed down and called out, ‘Mrs Perera, have you seen Annie today?’

  She shook her head. ‘No. Is she visiting?’

  Revving the engine, he drove off. He drove at high speed, but nobody cared about road rules in Sri Lanka. That was fortunate, because today he was breaking every one of them.

  In three hours he was in Colombo.

  ***

  December 2009, Colombo, Sri Lanka

  He drove directly to Annie’s house. Soon he was parked in the drive. He leapt out and ran to the front door. His frantic and repeated jabs at the doorbell didn’t bring any response.

  Annie had to be here. He racked his brains to think of any other place she might be.

  After a few minutes he heard footsteps inside. ‘Who is it?’

  It was Inspector HJ’s wife Malini. She was a relative of Annie’s mother, but maybe there was some other reason for her to be here. No, he was imagining things. Annie would be here and he would be able to sort it all out.

  He had to.

  ‘Aunty Malini,’ he called out, ‘it’s me, Sunil. I am looking for Annie.’

  She opened the door and ushered him in. He looked around the sitting room, ‘Where is she, Aunty?’

  Aunty Malini, shut and locked the door, ‘Come into the kitchen,’ she said, bustling ahead of him. On the dining table was a list of names and addresses and a pile of handwritten notes. Aunty Malini gestured to them. ‘I am writing notes cancelling the wedding.’

  Sunil dropped into a chair. ‘Aunty, please, where is she? I can make things right if I meet and speak with her.’

  Aunty Malini switched on the kettle and picked up a tea bag. Soon, there was a steaming cup of sweet milky tea in front of him.

  ‘Aunty,’ he prompted.

  She shrugged. ‘I don’t know the details, Sunil, but neither Annie nor her mother are here right now.’

  A deep hollow opened up in his soul. She was gone. Gone. This was the end. He was finished. He no longer cared who knew.

  ‘Sunil,’ Aunty Malini spoke softly. ‘Talk to me.’

  He dropped his head in his hands. A sob tore through him. ‘I—I didn’t want to hurt her, but—but—’ he swallowed the bile clogging his throat— ‘the tea plantation, the gem business, my house, the car, I would have lost it all if I didn’t—didn’t do something to make more money. I had no choice. I borrowed money. I sold my soul.’ Sunil sobbed into his hands.

  ‘Sunil.’ Aunty Malini placed her hand on his shoulder. ‘Sunil, you are a good man, whatever you are involved in—there will be a way out.’

  He raised his tear ravaged face to Aunty Malini. ‘She knows doesn’t she? I love her and I betrayed her trust.’ Sunil jumped up and ran to the kitchen sink. Bent over, he emptied his stomach.

  Aunty Malini stood at the door with a glass of water. ‘She is safe, Sunil.’

  ‘I was trying to make a good life, to protect the business and look after my parents. Now I don’t know what to do.’

  ‘I can tell you what you should do.’ Sunil spun around. Inspector HJ stood at the door leading from the kitchen to the main section of the house. ‘Sit down, Sunil.’ Inspector HJ pointed to the chair Sunil had just vacated. Sunil dropped into it.

  Aunty Malini slid the cup of tea towards him. ‘Drink, child.’

  ‘Sunil,’ Inspector HJ’s voice was clipped. ‘You have a choice, and not a lot of time to make a decision.’

  ‘How? What?’

  ‘Listen, Sunil,’ Inspector HJ said, standing up. ‘Right now, our people are watching this house. But, we don’t know when your pals will turn up. I will explain what you can do, and then you have to make a choice.’

  Chapter 11

  December 2009, Sydney Australia

  It was a seventeen-hour flight, with a stopover and flight changes in Chennai and Singapore. Zombie-like, Annie went through the formalities of passport checks and transit lounges. On the final flight, she slept for a while. When she woke up, she sat staring at the Qantas inflight magazine, wondering what awaited her in Sydney.

  ‘Ladies and gentlemen, please take your seats and fasten your seat belts. Please make sure your seats and tray tables are in their full upright position. Make sure all carry-on luggage is stowed underneath the seat in front of you or in the overhead bins. We are beginning our descent to Sydney.’

  A flight attendant stopped at her seat. ‘Doctor Maryanne Shevanthi Samarasinghe?’

  Annie nodded.

  ‘We have a message for you, doctor.’

  Her heart clenched. ‘Is there a problem?’

  ‘On the contrary, it seems we’ve solved a problem. Your luggage has been located. Your bag will be at carousel three.’

  Uncle HJ had worked fast to get her baggage on the flight. ‘Thank you.’

  Annie checked her handbag. There was no key to the apartment she shared with Monica but there was money. She would call Monica from a payphone in the airport, and take a taxi to their apartment. She could talk to Uncle HJ on the landline from the flat and check on her mother.

  She still had another eight weeks of leave and wasn’t scheduled to get back to Sydney until the end of February. She glanced at her watch to check the date; it was the fifteenth of December in Sydney. Well, she would go in tomorrow. Professor Pennington would be happy to see her back in the theatre and the clinics. The work she loved would take her mind off all the crazy events of the last few weeks. Ro and Xav had said that their people in Australia would get in touch with her. She would wait for them to do that.

  The plane circled and dipped over the city. Leaning forward, she stared out of the window. Summer sunshine glinted off the arches of the Harbour Bridge and glimmered on the shells of the Sydney Opera House.

  Layers of anxiety peeled off her. She was in Australia. She was safe.

  The plane taxied to the terminal.

  ‘Ladies and gentlemen, welcome to Sydney.’

  Seven o’clock on a Monday morning. It was a busy time in Terminal One of Sydney International Airport. The doors to the arrivals lounge swung open disgorging Annie together with a motley group of tired fellow travellers, into the hot and humid air of a Sydney summer morning. Annie took a deep breath and guided the trolley with her suitcase down the ramp. Now to find a taxi.

  ‘Sheva, darling.’ Brown arms wrapped around her, and lifted her feet off the ground.

  She tried to push him away. ‘Let me go,’ she gasped. She opened her mouth to scream.

  His arms held her pressed against him, giving her no opportunity to draw away. Warm lips cut off her scream.

  ‘Kiss me back.’ The words were hissed in her ear. ‘I work with your Uncle HJ. Just do it. There may be someone watching us.’ The arms holding her tightened.

  Feeling like an automaton, Annie obeyed. She slipped her arms over his shoulders. His lips were soft and gentle on hers. Annie blinked and swayed when he let her go.

  ‘Hang on, Sheva.’ The face bent to hers was chiselled handsome. Straight nose, angled cheekbone. Sri Lankan or Indian.

  ‘Sheva?’

  He kept an arm tight around her waist, and picked her bag off the trolley with the other. His blue eyes twinkled down at her. Blue eyes on a brown skinned subcontinental. This was getting weirder by the minute.

  ‘Yes, Sheva. We have to give Annie a rest for a few weeks. Now listen and concentrate. This is a quick rundown. You and I have been separated for a couple of weeks. You are in love with me. So, passion is called for. Sorry if it surprised you.’ The rough, gravelly voice matched the muscled frame. ‘I’m Daniel Cooper,’ he whispered into her ear. ‘Dan to you. I’m a National Parks ranger stationed in Jindabyne.’

  Annie tried to pull away.

&n
bsp; ‘No, I’m your boyfriend. You should be looking up at me with stars in your eyes.’ He grinned. ‘Trust me, Sheva, it gets even more enthralling from here on.’

  ‘But, I’m Annie. I don’t ever use Shevanthi, much less call myself Sheva!’

  ‘It is your name, Doc. As of now you are Doctor Sheva Singh.’

  Seated in the front seat of the black Toyota Corolla, Annie learned she would not be returning to her flat in Sydney. The next few weeks would be spent in a way she’d never imagined, even in her wildest dreams.

  Dan handed her a large white envelope. ‘You are now officially under the federal government witness protection program. We decided not to change your name completely.’

  ‘Who is “we”?’

  He ignored her question. ‘As Doctor Sheva Singh, you are a general practitioner, not a specialist. Credit cards, identity, Medicare are all in there. Also, a new mobile phone. We have cancelled all your old credit cards and the Medicare card. Your social media sites — Facebook, Twitter, Instagram, blog all have been blocked. This phone is registered under Dr Sheva Singh at your Jindabyne address. It’s a silent number. Don’t call anyone on it without letting me know first.’ He glanced at her. ‘Your calls will be monitored. Sorry, it’s for your own safety.’

  The reality of what he was saying seeped into her weary and jetlagged brain. She slid the documents out of the envelope. ‘No! This is a crazy idea. There is no reason to go to this extent. I live with friends. The hospital is a secure place. I am willing to lie low for the next month or so, but, I am not going through with this charade you have set up.’

  Dan gripped the steering wheel. ‘Charade? That’s what you think of an international sex trafficking and porn production ring? Your fiancé is only a small cog in the wheel, Sheva. You are a witness. The head honchos will think nothing of getting rid of you.’ He took his left hand off the wheel to shush her when she opened her moth to respond. ‘Before you say that you can look after yourself, think of the girls in the pictures, the woman Soma whom you talked to on the plantation. Your evidence could save these women from a life of sex slavery and prostitution. Think about that before you make any decisions.’