Free The Flower Boy by Karen Roberts

turn. She was determined to do better than they had.
    Bigger turkey, more potatoes, more Brussels sprouts, more mince pies, more Christmas pudding.
    On the afternoon of the twenty-third, Chandi fidgeted while Leela fitted the silver-paper-covered cardboard crown on his head.
    He wore his school shorts and shirt, but had a frayed piece of purple silk from someone’s old sari tied around his shoulders like a cape. He carried the top half of a broomstick covered with silver paper in one hand, an empty gift-wrapped box in the other and had pink powder, lipstick and rouge on his face.
    He felt slightly ridiculous.
    The chief guests arrived sharp at five and were met and escorted to their seats by a nervous reception committee headed by Mr. Aloysius. The family from Windsor had not come, which was both a disappointment and a blessing, since there were only six bugless chairs in the school.
    They had been debugged earlier on by Antonis, the half-mad school watchman, who had poured several pots of boiling water over them, and had managed to pour some on his feet as well, hence the dirty bandages and the hobble.
    With the exception of Mrs. Buckwater’s genteel snores and the plastic one-eyed, fingerless baby doll Jesus slipping through Rangi Mary’s nerveless fingers and landing on Chandi Magi’s respectful foot, the play played smoothly.
    Afterward, scores of lipsticked and rouged kings, shepherds, angels and others flocked to pay respectful homage to the Sudu Mahattaya, who ruffled a few heads, patted a few backs, clucked over a few babies and smiled once at Mr. Aloysius.
    They all slid uncertainly past the Sudu Nona, who didn’t at all mind being slid past. It gave her less to do. Anne looked amused, Jonathan looked distraught and Premawathi tried hard not to beam too much with motherly pride.
    Only Chandi was disappointed, for Rose-Lizzie had been left behind at the bungalow with her ayah-jailer.
    CHRISTMAS DAY ARRIVED quickly, not at all like last year when it had chugged in like the Ruhuna Kumari with all twenty carriages attached, negotiating a particularly tricky climb.
    The family decked themselves out in their seasonal finery and left for church in the silver car, which had been brought out and polished by Krishna for the occasion.
    They went to the church in Nuwara Eliya town.
    The small Glencairn church had its Christmas service too, attended by a full congregation of unbedecked factory workers who sang louder and prayed harder than all the bedecked people in the big church in Nuwara Eliya.
    Premawathi couldn’t go because she had too much to do, and Rangi and Leela had to help her, so Chandi missed Christmas service. He didn’t really care.
    He waited impatiently until the family came back from church, because this was the one day in the entire year when the help was allowed to hover around the open drawing room door to watch the presents, which had sat underneath the Christmas tree, being handed out and opened.
    He wasn’t really interested in the presents, but Rose-Lizzie would be there. Open and revealed like a just-unwrapped, longed-for Christmas present.
    He was washed and scrubbed extra hard with Ammi’s pol mudda for the occasion. His teeth gleamed whitely and his face was gray from too much Pond’s powder. He hung a piece of tinsel he had found earlier around his neck, but Ammi pulled it off.
    The Christmas tree glittered with fairy lights, throwing silver and gold reflections onto the faces of the family ranged around. The Sudu Mahattaya was in his wing chair, the Sudu Nona was arranged artistically on the sofa, her arm around Jonathan who was perched uncomfortably next to her, Anne was on the carpet in front of the sofa, and Rose-Lizzie was in the unrelenting grip of the ayah-jailer.
    Appuhamy stood behind his master’s chair like the Ghost of Christmas Past.
    Clustered around the door, like an untidy bunch of unmatched grapes, stood Premawathi, Rangi, Leela, Chandi,