The Flower Boy by Karen Roberts Read Free Book Online

asked him.
    â€œIs she pretty?”
    â€œBeautiful.”
    â€œWhat color are her eyes?”
    â€œBlue.”
    â€œLike the Sudu Nona’s?”
    â€œNo, darker. Like the evening sky.”
    â€œHer hair?”
    â€œLight brown.”
    â€œSilvery brown like the bark of the eucalyptus tree?”
    â€œNo, darker.”
    â€œIs it straight like yours and Leela’s and Ammi’s?”
    â€œNo, it’s curly. Like passion fruit tendrils.”
    They had this conversation at least once a week. Rangi didn’t seem to mind him asking over and over again. He tried to draw a picture of her in his head, but it never came out quite right. Sometimes he felt sad that he couldn’t see her, but mostly he felt angry.
    Sometimes he talked to Rangi about it.
    â€œRangi, why won’t they let me see her? All those people have been coming to visit and they’ve seen her.”
    â€œI don’t know, Chandi. We’re only servants, not important people like them.”
    â€œDo you think I should ask Ammi again tomorrow if I can go and see her?”
    She looked at him curiously and a little sympathetically. “Malli, why do you want to see the baby so much?”
    â€œI don’t know, because I haven’t I suppose,” he muttered.
    â€œWait awhile,” she said. “Perhaps one day they’ll let you.”
    â€œWhen?” he asked hopelessly.
    â€œSoon.” But there was always doubt in her voice.
    â€œCHANDI! GET UP now or you’ll be late for school and you’ll have to walk alone, because Rangi and Leela are almost ready.”
    Chandi looked guiltily at his mother. Being such a busy person herself, she hated to see anyone daydreaming or wasting time. He jumped to his feet and rushed out to wash.
    Ten minutes later, he was ready. He had done a haphazard job of washing his face and arms and legs, but the water from the well had been freezing and he was late. He had also skipped brushing his teeth, so he grabbed his old cloth schoolbag and ran out without letting his mother ruffle his hair as she usually did each morning.
    She stood there watching him running down the hill, calling out to Rangi and Leela to wait for him. She felt a little hurt by his abrupt departure, and wondered if she’d been too harsh with him this morning.
    He was still so little, not yet five. She wished she had more time to spend with him, to listen to his childish chatter, but there was always work to be done. This job had been a blessing. No one else would have taken her three children in, no matter how efficient she was. In fact, it had only been because her uncle worked with Appuhamy’s brother in a big house in Colombo that she had this job at all.

chapter 5
    SHE HAD BEEN BORN IN A SMALL VILLAGE IN DENIYAYA, WHAT SEEMED to be a couple of lifetimes ago. Her father did odd jobs for people, picking tea, plucking coconuts, helping to harvest vegetables or rice. Sometimes he got paid and sometimes he didn’t. Often he’d come home with a couple of coconuts, some vegetables or a small bag of rice as payment for the work he’d done.
    Her mother would sigh and raise her eyes heavenward in despair.
    Her mother made cutlets.
    She woke at three-thirty every morning, lit the fire and set the old tin kettle to boil before she began.
    Flake the fish boiled the previous night, throwing the bones out the door, where the cats would be waiting, their eyes like glowing green embers in the predawn darkness. Mash the boiled potatoes and knead them. Mix the two together, wishing she could put in more potatoes because fish was so expensive, but not daring to, in case people complained. Put in the onions, green chilies, karapincha, salt, pepper. Shape the mixture into flat little cakes which she laid carefully on a clean newspaper.
    She would pause to make herself a cup of plain tea and find a piece of jaggery to drink it with; sugar was scarce.
    Once the cutlets were coated