The night had been hot, the rain frequent, and I had been sleeping on the verandah instead of in the house. I was in my twenties, had begun to earn a living and felt I had certain responsibilities.
In a short time, a tonga would take me to the railway station, and from there a train would take me to Bombay, and then a ship would take me to England. There would be work, interviews, a job, a different kind of life, so many things that this small bungalow of my grandfather would be remembered fitfully, in rare moments of reflection.
When I awoke on the veranda, I saw a grey morning, smelt the rain on the red earth and remembered that I had to go away. A girl was standing on the veranda porch, looking at me very seriously. When I saw her, I sat up in bed with a start.
She was a small dark girl, her eyes big and black, her pigtails tied up in a bright red ribbon, and she was fresh and clean like the rain and the red earth.
She stood looking at me and was very serious.
‘Hullo,’ I said, smiling and trying to put her at ease. But the girl was business-like and acknowledged my greeting with a brief nod.
‘Can I do anything for you?’ I asked, stretching my limbs. ‘Do you stay nearby?’ With great assurance she said, ‘Yes, but I can stay on my own.’
‘You’re like me,’ I said, and for a while, forgot about being an old man of twenty. ‘I like to be on my own but I’m going away today.’
‘Oh,’ she said, a little breathlessly.
‘Would you care to go to England?’
‘I want to go everywhere,’ she said. ‘To America and Africa and Japan and Honolulu.’
‘Maybe you will,’ I said. ‘I’m going everywhere, and no one can stop me… But what is it you want, what did you come for?’
‘I want some flowers but I can’t reach them.’ She waved her hand towards the garden, ‘That tree, see?’
The coral tree stood in front of the house surrounded by pools of water and broken, fallen blossoms. The branches of the tree were thick with scarlet, pea-shaped flowers.
‘All right, just let me get ready.’
The tree was easy to climb and I made myself comfortable on one of the lower branches, smiling down at the serious upturned face of the girl.
‘I’ll throw them down to you,’ I said.
I bent a branch but the wood was young and green and I had to twist it several times
before it snapped.
‘I’m not sure I ought to do this,’ I said as I dropped the flowering branch to the girl.
‘Don’t worry,’ she said.
I felt a sudden nostalgic longing for childhood and an urge to remain behind in my grandfather’s house with its tangled memories and ghosts of yesteryear. But I was the only one left and what could I do except climb tamarind and jackfruit trees?
‘Have you many friends?’ I asked.
‘Oh yes.’
‘And who is the best?’
‘The cook. He lets me stay in the kitchen which is more interesting than the house. And I like to watch him cooking. And he gives me things to eat and tells me stories…’
‘And who is your second best friend?’
She inclined her head to one side and thought very hard.
‘I’ll make you second best,’ she said.
I sprinkled coral blossoms on her head. ‘That’s very kind of you. I’m happy to be second best.’
A tonga bell sounded at the gate and I looked out from the tree and said, ‘It’s come for me. I have to go now.’
I climbed down.
‘Will you help me with my suitcases?’ I asked, as we walked together towards the veranda. ‘There’s no one here to help me. I am the last to go. Not because I want to go but because I have to.’
I sat down on the cot and packed a few last things in my suitcase. All the doors of the house were locked. On my way to the station, I would leave the keys with the caretaker. I had already given instructions to the agent to try and sell the house. There was nothing more to be done. We walked in silence to the waiting tonga, thinking and wondering about each other. The girl stood at the side of the path, on the damp earth, looking at me.
‘Thank you,’ I said, ‘I hope I shall see you again.’
‘I’ll see you in London,’ she said. ‘Or America or Japan, I want to go everywhere.’ ‘I’m sure you will,’ I said. ‘And perhaps, I’ll come back and we’ll meet again in this
garden. That would be nice, wouldn’t it?’
She nodded and smiled. We knew it was an important moment. The tonga driver spoke to his pony and the carriage set off down the gravel path, rattling a little. The girl and I waved to each other. In the girl’s hand was a spring of coral blossom. As she waved, the blossoms fell apart and danced lightly in the breeze.
‘Goodbye!’ I called.
‘Goodbye!’ called the girl.
The ribbon had come loose from her pigtail and lay on the ground with the coral blossoms.
And she was fresh and clean like the rain and the red earth.
