Free Brixton Beach by Roma Tearne

in dismay. ‘She said they were going to have a boy. A Hindu astrologer told her mother that finally, after five girls, she would have a son.’
    It was too late. Jennifer would tell everyone that Alice had wanted the baby to die and then everyone in the class would say she had made a curse. Perhaps, thought Alice in panic, she would be sent to the police.
    ‘Do I have to go to school on Monday?’ she asked, wanting to cry. ‘Can’t I stay here a bit longer?’
    Yes, darling,’ her grandmother said, looking at her in a funny way.
    Perhaps she too had guessed the terrible secret, thought Alice, really frightened now.
    You’ll stay until after the funeral. Then you must go back to school. And if Jennifer asks you, simply say the baby died. There’s no shame in that, Alice. It wasn’t your poor mother’s fault.’
    Stanley rang again.
    ‘You’ll have to be kind to your mother,’ he told Alice, as if even he had discovered her secret. Reluctantly she agreed, aware of Bee’s watchful eyes on her. Afterwards, without a word, Bee got the car out to drive May to the hospital. He would go with Stanley to the undertakers to organise the funeral. Kamala gave May a food parcel of rice and bitter gourd with chillies. The cook had baked it with fenugreek in the clay oven, knowing it was Sita’s favourite dish.
    ‘She’ll be hungry,’ Kamala whispered, ‘even though she won’t realise it.’
    Kamala too sounded close to tears. She gave May a flask of coriander tea.
    ‘To dry the milk.’
    Alice glanced at her.
    ‘She may have a fever.’
    Kamala was speaking hurriedly, avoiding looking at May. Alice watched them from the corner of her eye, both fascinated and repelled by the whispering voices. Everyone was avoiding looking at each other, as if they feared something awful would show in their faces.
    After they had gone the house fell silent. There was still no sign of Janake, as Alice wandered around aimlessly.
    ‘Why don’t you see if Esther is around?’ Kamala asked.
    But Esther was nowhere in sight either and Kamala, busy getting the room ready for Sita, had no time to talk.
    Alice looked around for something to do. On her grandmother’s instructions, she reluctantly decided to do a drawing for Sita. The thought of her mother’s return was beginning to curdle uneasily within her. She drew a picture of the view from Mount Lavinia Hill with its bougainvillea-covered houses, its coconut grove and its glimpse of the sea. After some deliberation she decided not to draw the ships that were so constantly present on the horizon. The ships that she had taken for granted all her life had, since this morning, taken on a new and more sinister meaning. So instead she drew the three rocks beside the hotel where she had often swum. She hoped it would bring back happy memories for her mother too.
    The servant had taken a mattress out on to the verandah and was dusting it. Then she began to sweep Sita’s old room. Sita would sleep alone so she might rest properly. The servant took all the furniture outside and began to clean it.
    ‘Move away, Alice, baby,’ the servant said. ‘You’ll get covered in dust. Why don’t you lie down for a bit?’
    Alice went into her room. She didn’t want to be called baby. She stared at the mosquito net hastily thrown aside earlier that morning. She had known this room all her life. It was as familiar as her own hand. The deer’s head that her great-grandfather had brought back as a trophy from England stared down at her. A bowler hat worn by one of her ancestors hung over its face, covering its sad, dead eyes. Alice shivered. The hat had been put there by Kamala years before when a much younger Alice had been frightened by its eyes. No one had ever bothered to remove it, and the deer now stared eternally into the dark interior of the hat. Sitting on the end of her bed, Alice glanced around the room. There was a faint smell of camphor and polish and washed cotton. The lump of clear green