‘Yes, I know that.’ Philomena raised an eyebrow. ‘Anyway, it is a very demanding job; I don’t think people understand what it involves. Everyone thinks the election was the hard part—not at all—keeping the electorate happy and running for re-election—that is the hard part.’

‘I’m sure he’ll be fine. Melvin is a very clever man.’ Nala put her teacup down and adjusted it in its silver saucer. She had been given the set by Philomena when she left Kandy but had never found an occasion to use it. Vasanthi had polished it for today.

‘When we were in Kandy, I had the opportunity to meet some of his constituents, in the villages,’ she said slowly.

‘Yes, I remember, you were terribly keen on helping them, Nala darling. But there is a natural order to these things, and it’s best not to … upset that, shall we say? The more you give those Indians, the more they want.’

‘Those Indians looked Ceylonese to me, Philomena.’ She paused. She could feel the clenching in her stomach rise to her chest and to her voice. She continued quickly before she lost her nerve. ‘Some of them looked as Ceylonese as Melvin.’

Philomena put her teacup down and looked at Nala carefully.

‘Rajan has applied for a teaching position at the University College Hospital in London.’

‘I heard,’ Philomena replied, relieved. ‘He’s the strongest candidate—but I’d be happy to put a word in with my brother, if you wish? Aubrey is now the chairman of the selection committee, as you must know. He reviews all the Sri Lankan applications.’

‘Yes, thank you—I don’t want him to get it.’ She adjusted the teacup once more and forced herself to look the other woman in the eye. ‘Philomena, he will apply for teaching and consultant positions in London again and again. I know my husband. He’s very determined. I don’t want him to get those either. Do you understand what I’m saying?’

‘Perfectly, Nala darling, perfectly,’ Philomena replied and allowed herself to smile broadly.

•

Rajan placed the letter on his table. Its vanilla parchment glowed against the dark teak. He flattened out its creases and felt the University College emblem, like braille against his fingers. In the bin next to him, he shoved the map he had torn from his study wall. He filed the letter with the others.

•

Nala rearranged the frames on her side table; her right hand paused on her belly and her left on a photograph of her and Mohan, taken on Archi’s verandah when they were children.

Dhara read the newspaper article to Nala, stopping at times to make sure she was still listening. All of Colombo was talking about the recent execution of Talduwe Somarama, the bhikku who had assassinated Prime Minister SWRD Bandaranaike three years ago. Imprisoned since 1959, he had converted to Christianity shortly before his hanging.