Free Bone China by Roma Tearne Page A

piano under his fingerstook on the swagger of the dance floor. He would be playing at his sister’s wedding.
    ‘Will you play “Maybe” and “An American in Paris” at the reception?’ begged Alicia, her arms around his neck, hugging him.
    ‘Yes,’ said Thornton. ‘Yes, yes, yes!’
    And he laughed again with the sheer joy of it all, pushing his hat down over his eyes, sticking a cigarette in the side of his mouth Bogart-style, foot pressed down on the loud pedal, until he deafened them all with the vibrations. Alicia, because she was happy, assumed naturally that his happiness was due to her. Naturally, being in love, what else could she assume? But Thornton was filled with an exuberance, a secret glow that was nothing whatsoever to do with the sunshine outside, or his sister. It was a tingling feeling that made him belt out ‘As Time Goes By’ one minute, and ‘Maple Leaf Rag’ the next.
    The house was almost continuously filled with activity, music pouring out of its every window. Love was in the air. Even the stifling heat of the dry season could not dispel it. Everyone was completely wrapped up with this, the first marriage in the family. The visitors’ list grew daily. Relatives from across the island, from Australia, and from as far away as Canada were coming.
    ‘We mustn’t forget Anslem, you know,’ said Aloysius. ‘Oh, and that fellow, what’s his name, darl, you know, the chap from the hill station?’
    ‘Harrison?’ asked Grace. ‘Yes. He’s on my list. What about Dr Davidson and his wife?’
    ‘Don’t forget the Fernandos,’ Frieda reminded her. ‘And is Mabel coming?’
    ‘What about Anton?’ asked Thornton. ‘I hope he’s coming.’
    ‘He is,’ said Grace frowning, looking at her list again, harassed.‘Alicia, is Ranjith Pieris definitely Sunil’s best man? I need to know.’
    ‘Yes,’ shouted Alicia from another part of the house.
    ‘Oh good!’ said Thornton. ‘Hey, Jacob, Anton’s coming!’
    ‘Good,’ said Jacob, hurrying out. He was late for work.
    Having sold off a piece of her land Grace prepared to throw open their doors for a party bigger and grander than anything in living memory. Bigger than Grace’s own wedding and grander than the party thrown by her father at the birth of Jacob. Grace was orchestrating the whole event, and Aloysius…Aloysius could hardly wait for the celebrations. A huge wedding cake was being made. As rationing was still in operation this was no easy task, but in this, at least, the bridegroom was able to help. The list of ingredients was frightening.
    ‘Rulang, sugar, raisins,’ said Frieda importantly, ‘sultanas, currants, candied peel, cherries, ginger preserve, chow-chow preserve, pumpkin preserve, almonds, Australian butter, brandy, rose water, bee’s honey, vanilla essence, almond essence, nutmeg, cloves, cinnamon, one hundred and fifty eggs.’
    Even Myrtle was drawn in and for once joined forces with the cook to weigh, chop and mix the ingredients, while Sunil was consulted on the little matter of the eggs. His mother in Dondra was instructed to round up all the hens she could find. Sunil volunteered to fetch the eggs, returning with all one hundred and fifty, travelling on the overnight steam train that hugged the coconut-fringed coastline, lit by the light of the phosphorescent moon.
    It was hot and airless in the train and several times during the night Sunil went out into the corridor where the breeze from the open window made it cooler. A huge moon stretched a path across the water. From where he stood it shone like crumpled cloth. Sunil stood watching the catamarans on themotionless sea and the men silhouetted on their stilts, delicate nets fanning like coral around them. It was the landscape of his birth, the place he loved and had grown up with. It was part and parcel of his childhood. Now, with this sudden momentous turn of events he was leaving it all behind to begin his married life in Colombo. Soon, very soon,