Songbirds(59)

Dust floated about in the light. I hadn’t been in this room for ages. My girl walked around touching the bedcovers and dressing table and armchair with the tips of her fingers.

‘Madam,’ she said, ‘thank you for this beautiful room. You are very kind. Some of my friends said that I might have a dark room and sleeping on the floor.’

‘I don’t think that’s true,’ I said. ‘We look after our maids here.’

She nodded.

‘When is the baby coming?’ she asked.

‘In a few weeks.’

‘I have a little girl in Sri Lanka. Her name is Kumari. She is two years of age.’

I didn’t know what to say. I had no energy and no desire to hear about her life, or anybody else’s, for that matter. There were no questions inside me.

Her eyes flitted to my stomach and then she glanced again around the room.

‘You can have a rest,’ I said, ‘after your long journey. Settle in, unpack, have a good sleep and start work tomorrow.’

‘Thank you, madam.’

‘Then you’ll be working from 6 a.m. to 7 p.m. Monday to Saturday, with a two-hour break in the afternoon. You’ll have Sundays off. When you’re not working in the evening, I expect you to rest in your room so that you are fresh for work the next day.’

She nodded and said nothing.

‘You have very unusual eyes,’ I said.

‘Thank you, madam. At school my friends called me “mango-eyes”.’ She smiled now, and her face was radiant. I left the room and closed the door behind me.

From then on, Nisha slowly brought the house back to life. She made me fresh eggs with toast and tea every morning. She cleaned until the marble floors sparkled, the kitchen spotless. On the mantelpiece, the photo of Stephanos stood polished in its silver frame.

Mostly I stayed out of her way. The baby was due soon, and I was working as much as I could, putting in extra hours at the shop. I came home at night exhausted and falling into bed, barely eating the dinners Nisha would prepare.

But, one evening, I looked up at Nisha and smiled at her. ‘Thank you,’ I said. ‘You’ve done a fantastic job.’

She nodded and smiled. ‘I’m glad you’re happy, madam,’ she replied. Then, after a moment’s hesitation, she went on: ‘But there is something I need your help with.’

I followed her to the nursery. She had folded all the yellow clothes and put them away, in the drawers and cupboards. She had washed and ironed the bed sheets and throws, and made up the cot.

‘It’s very nice, Nisha.’

‘But it is not beautiful yet,’ she said.

On the changing table were ornaments and toys, gifts I barely remembered.

‘I wonder, could you help me to decide where these will go?’

She picked up a snow globe and shook it – white glitter swirled around a cat with four suckling kittens at her teats. ‘Where shall I place this?’

‘Anywhere you like.’

‘I think it’s the job of the mother to decide.’

‘Fine,’ I said. ‘On the dressing table.’

She went over to the dressing table and placed to the left of the mirror. ‘Here?’ she asked.

‘That’ll do.’

‘Or how about in the middle?’ She pushed the snow globe over a few inches and turned to look at me. I said nothing.

Then she picked up a string garland for the wall. White fluffy clouds and wooden stars. ‘And this, madam? Over the crib, or on this wall on the other side?’

‘Either will be fine.’

She contemplated for a moment and held them up over the crib and finally decided to place them on the wall adjacent to the patio doors. I watched her as she did it. Concentrating, making sure they all lined up neatly. Then there were fairy lights of moons and stars, a bedside lamp of a cottage where the windows lit up, rainbow building blocks, a family of teddy bears, cactus ornaments, a yellow pillow with the word Dream embroidered on it, and some tiny animals made of felt – a bird, a hedgehog and two bears. She placed each item with purpose and care and soon the room had been transformed. The bedside lamp glowed in the darkening evening light, a beautiful, welcoming little house.

Then she took me to my room. The bed was neatly made, the mirrored wardrobes had been cleaned and the room smelled of polish.

‘I will leave all your husband’s things until you tell me.’

I was grateful for this.

But, eventually, I let her clean out my husband’s belongings. I felt a throb of shame that I could not bring myself to do the task, but by then I had become so used to letting Nisha do everything for me – and for the baby, when she eventually arrived – that it took almost nothing to turn to the window and sip my coffee, Aliki asleep in her bassinet, while Nisha removed every trace of my marriage from the room.

*

I suddenly noticed that Aliki was standing in the garden looking at me. She was holding Monkey.

‘Does that cat belong to us now?’ I asked, pretending to be cross.

‘Ask him,’ she said. At that, she released Monkey, who took the opportunity to spread out on the ground and set about licking himself. Then Aliki stepped into the boat with me.

‘I’m hungry,’ she said. ‘Are you going to make supper?’

‘Yes. Yes, my baby, I will make it in a moment. I’m sorry it’s gotten so late.’