‘It’s a classic!’ Dhara laughed. ‘Priya will love that—Ayah will hate it. She says all those fancy Sri Lankan chefs are stealing her recipes and making lakhs of rupees out of her.’

‘Ayah could be right,’ he said, smiling. ‘She usually is. Ayah says you seem well—a little quiet but well.’

‘Did you ask Ayah to spy on me?’ Dhara asked, not troubled or surprised.

‘No, I asked Dr Fonseka next door to spy on you. Ayah is a free agent, she spies on everyone and helps everyone,’ he replied, watching her face carefully.

‘I am well, Mama. Honestly. I miss Smrithi terribly, and Priya too. I feel a pain …’ her hand rested on her heart, then moved down to her belly. ‘An ache, a constant ache—what can I say?’ Her voice trailed away, she looked at him hopelessly.

‘You can say that you want her back—you can ask for her back, mahal,’ he answered softly. He had said it, finally. He had betrayed one child’s needs to meet another’s.

She shook her head and, in spite of himself, he felt relieved.

•

Nala sat on the steps of the back verandah. Her hips still ached from the plane journey. Perhaps they just ached with age; she was almost sixty years old, although Dolly Fonseka said she still looked as young as the day they moved in. Rajan suggested Dolly see Dr Puvanachandra, the head of ophthalmology at Colombo General.

Dhara sat on the step below her, and leaned into her arms.

‘Mahal, I’m quite sure you don’t have lice,’ Nala said, running her fingers through Dhara’s thick curls.

‘You’re probably right, mami, but check anyway. You know what Rajan mama says about cleanliness.’

She laughed and ran the comb through the younger woman’s hair. Dhara never wore it out in public, always plaiting it or tying it into a demure bun at the nape of her neck. Now unfurled, it spilled around her shoulders. Nala poured the warm sesame oil onto her head and massaged her. Dhara’s hair was thick, but there were chunks missing where it had been ripped out, not from the root but with the scalp.

Dhara sighed deeply. ‘I’ve been thinking a lot about Smrithi and Priya, mami,’ she said without turning around.

‘They think about you all the time. They always talk about you. Priya misses you very much.’

‘I know. I miss her too. I miss all of them. I’ve been thinking,’ she hesitated. ‘How are they?’

Nala arranged Dhara’s hair to cover the barren, scarred skin. ‘They are happy, mahal. They are very happy there. Vivek will start high school next year, and Smrithi, she’s the cheeky one, always testing Priya and charming Siva. They’re all very happy,’ she repeated. What more could she say?