style="font-size:15px;"> ‘Can’t you find what you want?’ the young man asked, eventually.
Frieda, puzzling over the problem, replied unthinkingly, ‘No, but I can sort of sing it. I think it’s a Beethoven piece.’
She hummed loudly, marking time with her hands. She did not look up, mistaking him for a sales assistant. The boy laughed, amused.
‘At any rate, you can sing,’ he said. ‘Although I doubt it’s Beethoven.’
‘Why?’ demanded Frieda, without thinking. ‘What makes you so sure?’
The boy grinned and Frieda looked at him for the first time. But he’s English, she thought, confusedly. And he’s got golden hair!
‘Well,’ said the boy, ‘does it sound like this?’
He sang the opening bars, conducting it with both hands and accidentally knocking a record off the counter. The assistant hurried towards them. The boy was right; it was not Beethoven at all but Smetana with his river. How foolish she felt. And how strange was the quality of the light, she thought faintly, noticing it as it caught the sharp blueness of his eyes. They were dazzling, like the sea at noon. Something constricted in her heart.
‘Robert Grant, at your service,’ the boy said, bowing over her hand as if he was acting in a play.
Suddenly it felt as though a whole orchestra was playing in Frieda’s head.
‘I’m Frieda de Silva,’ she said, wondering why it was so hot. ‘My sister is getting married soon and this is a present for her.’
The boy’s eyes were hypnotic. Frieda was unable to look away. Never had she seen such eyes.
‘She’s a concert pianist too,’ she said, her voice faint.
‘Oh? What’s her name?’
‘Alicia. Alicia de Silva.’ Then, with a boldness that was to astonish her, afterwards, she added, ‘Why don’t you come to the concert she’s playing in, next week?’
Robert Grant grinned again. He had been bored, but now he was less so.
‘I’d love to,’ he said with alacrity. ‘Where’s it on and at what time?’
The assistant, who knew the de Silva family, handed Frieda her gramophone record and smiled.
‘Hello, Miss Frieda, I read a very good review about your sister in The Times last week.’
Frieda nodded. The orchestra in her head was playing a coda.
‘Is she famous?’ Robert asked as they walked out, and again Frieda nodded.
‘Yes. Yes, well, I mean, she’s getting famous,’ she stammered. ‘Come and meet her, meet my whole family.’
Outside, the heat was solid and impenetrable. Robert wrote down the time of the concert and shook hands with her. There was a small flash of startling blue as he glanced at her, then he was gone. It was as though the sea, ultramarine and wonderful, had seeped into her day. Opening her mouth to call after him, watching his receding back, Frieda stopped abruptly, for what on earth did she think she was doing? Turning, quickly, she began to walk home and entirely missed seeing her mother slipping out of a dark unfamiliar alleyway beside the station, into the afternoon sunshine. As she opened her umbrella and lifted her sari off the ground, Grace had the look of a softly bruised and ripened fruit, with a bloom, not usually found on the face of a woman who had borne five children and lived with a man such as Aloysius. She looked like a woman ten years her junior. But Frieda hurrying home in the scorching heat, with her heart on fire, and a set of wings attached to the soles of her feet, her sari sweeping up the dust of all Asia, saw none of this. Her mother’s dazed and secret look was entirely lost on her. For now at last, finally, Frieda had a secret all of her own.
‘Yes?’ asked Jasper as she entered the house stealthily, adding to himself, when she did not reply, ‘Up to no good.’
Frieda, pouring herself a long, cool glass of water, adding many ice cubes to it, ignored him, certain, even as the liquid slipped down her throat, that her world had changed forever since lunchtime.
Myrtle switched on her ceiling fan. Then she unlocked the drawer in her desk and took out her diary. Refilling her fountain pen she began to write.
October 28. A profitable morning. Followed G as far as the Elephant Hotel but then lost her. The taxi driver was exceedingly stupid and did not seem to understand what following a car meant. However, Mr B was very helpful. I gave him the information about the wedding and he agreed with me that the marriage is not a good one. Time will tell, he kept saying, shaking his head, gloomily. When I asked him how much time, he spread the cards. He is a very thoughtful and clever man and I am inclined to believe him. By the looks of things this marriage is going to be in serious trouble. Mr B asked me why I wanted to know so badly. There was no point in going into the details, no point in telling him about G and my suspicions about her activities with the British. I simply told him I wanted to save the rest of the family from further harm. Mr B nodded his head and told me I would not have long to wait. Months, perhaps, he said. But I had the distinct feeling he meant weeks. Then he gave me something else to stop the marriage. He told me what to do. I daren’t write the instructions down. All this has cost me a hell of a lot of money.
Myrtle paused. She could hear someone moving about in the hall. Jasper was saying something. She opened her door gently.
‘Up to no good,’ Jasper was saying morosely. ‘Up to no good!’
Robert Grant could not believe his luck. Having finished his degree at Oxford earlier that summer, he had arrived in Colombo to visit his parents. Sir John Grant had only a few more months as High Commissioner, after which he would return to England. Robert’s mother had decided it was a good thing for him to travel across the empire, before following his father into the Foreign Office. To begin with Robert had been bored. The embassy was filled with stuffy old people and the only locals he met were shopkeepers or servants. Then, just as he began to wish he were back in England again, quite by chance he had met Frieda de Silva. On her invitation he had gone to Alicia’s concert the following Monday and met the rest of her family. Mrs de Silva invited him to have dinner with them afterwards.
‘I know your father!’ Grace exclaimed when she had discovered who he was. They had finished eating and were now in the drawing room. ‘We’re very old friends. How lovely to meet you at last. I knew you were coming over here, but not when.’ Grace was delighted. ‘We used to play together as children, you know. He used to visit us at the House of Many Balconies. Your grandfather and my father were good friends. How funny! We’ve just had an invitation to your father’s farewell party at Mount Lavinia House.’
Robert was pleased.
‘How long will you be in Colombo?’ asked Grace.
‘I’m sailing back just before the New Year.’
‘Oh what a pity. You’ll miss Alicia’s wedding!’
Robert was startled. And then dismayed. So the girl Alicia was engaged to be married? Gosh! he thought, not knowing what to say. Suddenly Sunil’s presence made sense. He felt a sharp sense of something having passed
