The walk from the bus stop to his cousin’s house in the Avenues wasn’t long, but it was very pleasant. Sahan looked up at the houses as he passed. It was quiet around here, probably because people who lived in this part of town didn’t like noise. The avenue was wide and tree-lined. It was bright right now in the brittle winter light, but once the trees had leaves again, it would be pleasant and leafy. Strains of something classical floated down from an open window. Very refined. It was a world away from the grubby student house he lived in.
He’d grown up in Colombo, a noisy city, in a house full of people. Although there were only four people in his family, the house was home to a variety of staff – the home helps, the cook, the gardener, the drivers who turned up every morning to take the family members to their various destinations. His father’s political ambitions meant that there were often guests for dinner and his mother had ladies from her societies and other political wives round for tea. The house was large and airy, with open spaces and even an indoor water feature. While this helped keep the air moving and kept the house cool in the baking heat, it also made the distances in the house bigger and people would raise their voices to call to each other. His sister, Priyanka, for example, could holler clean across the house. When their mother objected, Priyanka had taken to phoning her or Sahan, even if they were in the next room. The house was never quiet.
The thought of his family made him smile. He missed them, especially his mother and sister, so much so that it sometimes felt like he couldn’t breathe. They missed him too. They waited up until midnight if he said he would Skype them in the evening. His sister sent him postcards, which stood out like jewels among the bills and rejection letters that made up the regular post. His mother sent him long emails with news about all the people he knew, and even about some he didn’t know. Sometimes, when he read them, all he wanted to do was pack up his things and go back to where he was safe. Like most middle class kids, Sahan had had a carefully controlled life – school, a few sports clubs, extra tuition classes – all under scrutiny. He was always dropped off and picked up by someone. His peers, as they got older, had a bit more independence, but because of their father’s fear of anything that would hurt his future political career, Sahan and Priyanka never saw the slackening of the reins. Unlike his sister, Sahan didn’t feel the need to fight against it. His parents had given him everything he’d ever needed and all they asked back was for him to finish his engineering degree, get a steady job, settle down and be happy. Why would he want to fight that?
He moved the bag containing a box of chocolates from one hand to the other. He liked it in England, most of the time. Someone had once told him that Hull was like a big village and he could see what they meant. It was quirky, with its white phone boxes and friendly people. Being at the university meant that he met people from all over the world. There was a place here for everyone, but sometimes he felt as though he would never fit in.
It wasn’t that he wasn’t malleable. He had adapted well enough, but there were some things that still caught him out. Once his exams were over, he would have to find a job either here or at home. These were the last few months of his freedom. He should enjoy it. Should. It was just another thing to add to the long list of things he had to do. Anyway, he didn’t really want to kick back or socialise. The reliance on the pub and nightclubs for all social activity didn’t help. He knew better than to drink too much now. He had learned about hangovers the hard way.
He stepped to the side to let a man in a motorized wheelchair go past. The old boy gave him a cheery wave. Sahan nodded back and plodded on. Maybe things would have been different if he was able to go out without feeling hunted. He would have had so much fun if he hadn’t ever met Tamsin. But then again, if he hadn’t had such a sheltered life, maybe he could have handled the Tamsin episode better.
His throat clenched. This always happened when he thought of Tamsin. He shook his head. That was two years ago. Nate had a point. It wasn’t such a big deal. Most guys would have laughed it off. He had to get over it and start going out again. Maybe even date someone. Sahan shuddered. He knew not all girls were like Tamsin, but somewhere deep in his hindbrain, he knew he couldn’t take the same thing happening again.
He arrived at his cousin’s house and paused to admire it. Bim did something that involved investing in things. Yamuna had told him, but he’d forgotten the details. Whatever it was, it paid for a nice tall house with white walls and window boxes. The evening sunlight cast the whole place in a pale yellow glow. His parents had originally wanted him to live with Yamuna. Thankfully, Yamuna had listened to Sahan’s suggestion that he should have the full university experience and argued on his behalf, emphasizing the importance of his learning to live independently. His sister had helpfully pointed out that Yamuna was newly married at the time and probably didn’t want a smelly boy cousin getting in the way. After all that, he hadn’t exactly been able to come to Yamuna for help when the Tamsin incident happened.
Sahan sniffed. He could smell food. Proper food. Frying rampe and garlic. Cinnamon. The smell transported him from the chilly spring evening to hot afternoons on a veranda at home. The feeling was immediate and overwhelming. His breath caught in his throat. Home.
He turned aside and took a struggling breath, inhaling the dry air, to replace the smell of spices. This happened from time to time too, this longing to be back where everything was familiar, but he knew that he wasn’t going to go back without a fight. His parents were well-to-do, but sending him to university in England had not been cheap. They had made sure he hadn’t been denied any opportunity. He couldn’t exactly turn around and quit. Besides, he wanted to get a good job. He had to finish his degree for that.
Sahan reached the white front door. He raised his hand to the doorbell. Suddenly, from somewhere above, there came a song. A voice, sweet and clear, sang a lullaby. The song was so familiar it bypassed all filters and hit him straight in the chest. He knew it by heart, even though he’d never consciously learned it. His mother had sung that song to him. His aunts sang it to his cousins. Yamuna was probably singing it to her son. It was the song of home.
The voice wasn’t Yamuna’s. It was too high, too young, too clear. It tugged at something deep inside him, taking him back to tropical Sundays. Sahan closed his eyes and leaned his forehead against the doorframe, listening. The lullaby filled him up and stilled the thoughts that kept him awake. For the first time in months, years even, he felt at peace. He couldn’t have moved away if he’d tried. After a few minutes, the singing became softer, then softer still, until the baby she was singing to fell asleep, then finally, it stopped altogether.
Released from the spell, Sahan looked up at the house. The song was in Sinhalese, so it had to have come from Yamuna’s house. The owner of that voice was in there, somewhere. When he rang the doorbell, Yamuna answered. ‘Sahan, come in.’
He entered the hallway and looked around, half expecting a girl with a clear voice to materialize there and then. He exchanged pleasantries and followed his cousin into the dining room, where Bim was setting the table. It surprised Sahan to see Bim and Yamuna doing anything remotely domestic together. They were such a stiff couple; he imagined that they inhabited independent circles, pulling into each other’s orbit only rarely, when they had a social engagement to attend. He privately considered it a miracle that Louie could ever have been conceived.
He accepted a beer. There was still no sign of anyone who could have been singing. There was also not as much evidence of Louie as usual.
Curiosity got the better of him. ‘I heard someone singing a lullaby when I came to the door,’ he said. ‘Have you got someone staying?’
‘Oh, that’ll be the new nanny,’ said Yamuna.
Sahan felt a stab of disappointment. A nanny. He had half expected to hear that a semi famous actress or singer had somehow come to visit.
Yamuna checked a pan of devilled potatoes on the hob and, pulling on oven gloves, started to remove dishes from the oven. ‘We got a girl from Sri Lanka, so that Louie could learn to speak a bit of Sinhalese. He’ll pick up English from playgroup, but we wanted him to have some exposure to Sinhalese as well. Even if he can’t speak it, he should at least be able to understand what people say to him when he goes to visit the grandparents.’
‘Won’t he get that from you?’ Maybe Yamuna didn’t talk to her son. The poor kid was going to grow up thinking it was normal to live in a household where everyone kept their distance.
Yamuna gave him a funny look. ‘Well, yes, I suppose, but we don’t get that much time with him during the week. It made so much more sense to get someone to come and help out with him.’
‘And this girl… she was the one I heard singing?’ He tried not to sound too interested. Really, he was only curious about this new person that had come to live in his cousin’s house. Nothing more. He needn’t tell Yamuna the effect the singing had had on him.
‘Probably,’ said Yamuna. ‘She seems to have settled in okay. Louie likes her.’
Bim’s phone buzzed. He stopped what he was doing to check it. To Sahan’s surprise, Bim didn’t put the phone back in his pocket, but started typing away on it. Yamuna didn’t seem to find this at all odd and carried on putting dishes on the table.
Sahan rushed over to help. He carried the large bowl full of pilau rice across to the table. ‘Wow, you must have been cooking for hours.’
Yamuna laughed. ‘I was going to order in, but now that there’s someone around to take care of Louie, I have a bit more time. So I cooked.’ She put the last dish on the table and motioned him to sit down. ‘So, tell me what’s going on with you.’
Throughout the meal, Sahan kept an eye out for the mysterious nanny. He wondered if she was as beautiful as her voice. But the woman never came downstairs. He wondered whether she had a small kitchen upstairs. Did she always eat separately from the family? He looked across at Yamuna and Bim, who were discussing something politely. No, a nanny would hardly be invited to eat with the family. That wouldn’t do.
He wondered how he could engineer a way to see her, just to assuage his curiosity. Perhaps she lived in a room next to the baby, like Victorian nannies in films. He couldn’t ask without his interest being noted. Yamuna would want to know why he was so interested in a servant. Even he didn’t know why he was so interested. Hearing that voice singing such a familiar song had reminded him of home and lifted him from his sadness, just for a moment. It had been a wonderful thing. He wasn’t sure it meant anything more than that, but he still felt compelled to see the singer.
The evening wore on. The dinner was fantastic. It felt so good to eat proper food. He ate bacon sandwiches and kebabs and chips, just like everyone else, but sometimes he craved flavour. He often had Indian food from the curry house he worked at, but that tasted nothing like home. He relied on his visits to Yamuna, or his rare excursions out to one of the Sri Lankan restaurants to fill the gap. Yamuna always packed up some leftovers for him to take back, so he would have at least one more meal that tasted real.
It got late and there was still no sign of the nanny coming downstairs. It was nearly time to leave.
‘Can I pop up and have a look at Louie?’ Sahan said. ‘I haven’t seen him in months and he must be getting so big now.’ Of course, the baby would be asleep. ‘Would it disturb him if I had a peep?’
If Yamuna thought this was a strange request, she didn’t show it. ‘I don’t think that will be a problem,’ she said. She pushed her chair back. ‘Come. I’ll take you.’
The child’s room was at the top of the house. Sahan followed his cousin up the many flights of stairs and wondered at the houses stacked so tall and thin, jammed in against each other. They had both grown up in airy middle class homes where big windows let in light and a welcome breeze. Here everything was tightly sealed. Keeping the occupants in and nature firmly out.
‘Shh.’ Yamuna said, unnecessarily, as they reached the top.
They crept quietly to the door which had Louie’s name made out on it in colourful wooden letters. Sahan glanced around. There were two other doors. One, left ajar, clearly led to a small toilet. The other was shut. Perhaps the owner of that voice lived in there.
As Yamuna creaked open Louie’s door and peered in, Sahan had a moment of clarity. What was he doing? Sneaking around, trying to catch a glimpse of a servant. So, the woman had a beautiful voice. So what? She was still a servant in his cousin’s house. She was probably ugly too, despite the voice. What would his sister say if he told her? She would tease him mercilessly, of course. His parents… well, he’d never talk to his parents about something so stupid.
Yamuna gestured him forward. He went to the door and peered in at the baby. Louie was fast asleep, his chubby features bathed in the glow from the nightlight. In repose, the boy looked like his father. Sahan smiled. His own mother would have loved to see this. She loved babies.
There was a sound behind them.
‘Madam?’ That voice. Soft now. No longer crooning but whispering and puzzled. He turned slowly.
The girl was wearing a thick green dressing gown that was too big for her. It made her appear shapeless. She had no hair to speak of. He had been expecting that because Yamuna had mentioned the whole head lice scenario, but it was still a shock to see. And her face… Her face. Sahan stared. The lack of hair gave her an ethereal quality, like she was part fairy, part real. Her eyes were huge and wary. Her features were big for her oval face, but that only added to her look of wide-eyed innocence. Her skin was flawless. There wasn’t a hint of make-up on it and it was still perfect.
Her gaze flicked from Yamuna to Sahan. Catching him looking at her, she flinched away, wrapping her arms around herself and stepping backwards towards her own room. Was she scared? Of him?
‘It’s okay,’ Yamuna said. ‘My cousin and I were looking in on Louie. Go back to bed.’
The girl nodded, but didn’t raise her eyes from the floor. She seemed to have shrunk into herself. Her vulnerability hooked into something in his chest. He wanted to step forward and tell her that there was no need to be frightened of him. He would never hurt her. He wouldn’t hurt anyone.
‘Come Sahan,’ said Yamuna. ‘We should let Soma and Louie get their rest.’ With that, she started back down the stairs.
Soma. So that was her name. At the top of the stairs he looked back over his shoulder. The door to Soma’s room was open, just a crack. He saw her face, watching him. When he looked at her, she pulled backwards like a startled bird. He followed Yamuna downstairs. At the landing, he risked another glance. Her door was still closing, as though she’d spent a few extra seconds watching him leave.
Yamuna was talking, but Sahan didn’t hear any of it. Soma, with her shaved head and enormous eyes, had triggered a maelstrom inside him. The fear in her eyes resonated with him. It was similar to what he felt about going out and being sociable, but amplified many fold. For the first time since he’d come to this country, he had met someone who was clearly more scared than he was. To his surprise, he wanted to help her.
He couldn’t focus on anything Yamuna said. He claimed tiredness and Bim offered to drive him home. ‘Thank you, but I’ll be okay on the bus,’ Sahan said, because all he really wanted was time to think.
‘I’ll see you in a few weeks, then?’ said Yamuna, as she saw him to the door.
‘A few weeks?’ Had they agreed something? He must have missed it completely.
She rolled her eyes. ‘You were going to fix a bolt on the nanny’s bedroom door.’
His heart gave an unexpected little skip. ‘Oh. Yeah. That’s fine. I’ll come on Saturday.’
‘Can you buy the bolt too? I’ll pay you back, of course.’
She opened the door for him. ‘The poor girl wedges a chair against the door when she sleeps. It didn’t occur to me before, but this must be a frightening change for her. She seems a bit naive for her age.’
He had been frightened when he first came over to England, but he had known where he was going. He spoke good English. And look how that had turned out. He thought back to his first few weeks in halls. ‘I think, if my door at uni didn’t have a lock, I’d probably jam a chair against it too,’ he said.
‘Yes well, you’re at uni. She sleeps at the top of this house. It’s not likely she’s going to encounter passing vandals here,’ said Yamuna. ‘If she needs a lock on the door to feel safe, then it’s not a big deal. She should be able to relax. This is her home too now.’ Yamuna sighed. ‘Besides, if Louie needs her, I don’t want her to have to remove a blockade before she can see to him.’
As he walked briskly back to the bus stop, Sahan’s thoughts drifted back to the nanny. She had looked so vulnerable. Completely unlike anyone he’d met before. It must have been that, combined with the sound of her singing that had made such an impact on him. He wanted to protect her. There must be something kind he could do for her.
For the first time in a long time, he felt in a position to help someone. That made him feel strong. After all this time feeling powerless, it was nice to remember what strong felt like.