“Tea would be nice. But only if you’re making it for yourself.”

Mummy and I both stared at her.

“Only two days ago I tried tea for the first time. I like it,” Sarina said.

“Don’t get into the habit of drinking it, though. Without my morning and afternoon cup of tea I feel as sluggish as a water buffalo in the summer heat. It’s terrible,” Mummy said, walking toward the kitchen.

As soon as Mummy had gone, Sarina took out a letter from her book and slipped it in my hand, whispering “Don’t look at it now, just hide it.”

I recognized the aerogramme. “Is it from Mohini?”

“Yes.”

“Why did she send me a letter to your address?” I mumbled, my heart wildly beating dhuk, dhuk, dhuk, as I slipped the letter into the pillowcase.

I wanted to rush to the bathroom and read it, but my blouse and skirt had no pockets and I didn’t want Mummy to discover my letter, not until I knew what was in it.

I closed my eyes while Mummy and Sarina drank their tea. Even with my eyes closed I knew Mummy drank her tea from a saucer, like a cat licking milk from a bowl. Sarina sipped hers daintily from the teacup.

“You haven’t finished even half a cup,” Mummy said, getting up. “What’s the problem? Don’t you like my tea?”

“Oh yes, I like it very much, but it’s very hot.”

“I see,” Mummy said, adding, “If you’re planning to stay here for a while, I’ll go to temple.”

“Yes, yes, go ahead. I’ll stay.”

Sarina watched Mummy from the window as she went down the stairs, through the courtyard, and out of sight.

“Please read it,” I said, handing Sarina the letter.

“Are you sure?”

“Yes.”

She read: