Suddenly Melwyn appeared, his footfall soft, passing like a pale fish through moss and water and leaves; yet a fish that had its own armoury of spiky fins and tail, the survivor in this hazardous ocean. He peered at each plant, hardly making a stir. He would be safe in any jungle, move without disturbing the masses of foliage, scenting danger and adroitly avoiding it, without stepping on the coiled serpent. He could avoid temptation.

Melwyn wanted to visit one of the greatest, the most famous painters of the country. He lived across the river Mahaweli. Melwyn loved paintings and had stood gazing at an old water colour, a still life with flowers and fruit which Camille had once painted, with a certain wistfulness in his manner. Why that air of wistfulness? He had turned round and said: ‘He offered me a temple painting for sixty thousand rupees. I offered him thirty thousand.’ These were skillful copies of paintings from the ancient temples in the island, done on paper in water colour. Jatak stories with thir glimpes of world of bodhisattvas, king, queens and ordinary humans. Thir dewelling place, the patterns on thir cloths. A God world and a human world.

‘Did you get your painting?’ Camille asked.

‘No, I lost it. He sold it to someone else.’

Outside the orchid house Melwyn had stood talking to Ranee, a relative of Jasmine’s, who had also come along for the picnic. Melwyn and his friends knew her well as she often provided catering services for parties and banquets organized by expatriates.

‘Melwyn,’ she drawled, ‘I thought you said you wanted to see the paintings.’

Camille watched Melwyn’s face. It did not change its expression. Bland. Imperturbable. Not to be shaken.

‘No, not today. I don’t see them today. If we go without an appointment, we disturb the artist. We must first inform and then go. Not proper.’

‘No, it’s quite all right. We can go with this lady. She knows the artist well. The others can stay in the car. I have only to mention my father’s name.’

Ranee’s father belonged to one of the foremost families by virtue of wealth, birth and political connections in this country.

‘No, I don’t go. I haven’t brought money. No cheque book. We go another time.’

He walked away and looked at the gold fish in the pool. They swam, glittering in the sun as they surfaced and then disappeared beneath the leaves of the lotus flowers.

Curious, Kendrick, Jasmine and the rest of the group came up to them.

‘What have you been talking about?’ Kendrick asked Raj and Melwyn.

Raj smiled. ‘He wants me to come and teach English to Carey, to stay with them. There is a vacant room. I can eat Chinese food if I wish. He wants Carey to be groomed to run a restaurant in Colombo.’

‘What else did he say?’