After Mumbles left, Gitanjali went out for a walk. Govinda went to the balcony to see where his mother was going. She walked past Mumbles’ wife, Sonia, who was on her haunches washing laundry. Her daughters were helping her. It was hard for Govinda to align Sonia with Mumbles. While Mumbles was handsome, she was painfully crooked from hard work and arthritis. Her teeth were stained from chewing beetlenut. She had a damaged eye but a brilliant work ethic. The soapy water was bubbling and frothy on her arms.

‘You do such a nice job with our laundry,’ said Gitanjali.

For a second, Gitanjali seemed to hesitate but then walked on to the servants’ quarters. She stood outside Mumbles’ hut. Govinda saw her look to see if anyone was watching her before quickly slipping in behind the door. For a while he watched Sonia scrub at a shirt collar, and then he went in and looked at the clock. The time was seven-thirty. He knew he should not follow his mother, but he did so regardless. He found himself in the darkness of the servant quarters. The walls and windows were grubby. The air smelled dimly of earth and rubbish. Looking through Mumbles’ window, Govinda wondered what his mother was doing in there. Why was she there on her own? He was absorbed, hardly daring to breathe, and watched as a bare-chested man stood up. He could not see the man’s face but he looked like Mumbles. He was not wearing his turban. His long hair hung loose. Govinda couldn’t see his mother but it infuriated him that she was in there somewhere. Then he saw her. She had her cheek on the man’s chest and then her hands and lips.

Nitesh silently came up behind him. ‘Hey, Buttscratcher what are you doing?’ Govinda turned and pushed Nitesh hard in the chest. Then he kicked him.

‘What are you grinning like a monkey for?’ Govinda said.

Without wanting to make a fuss, he walked away and hoped Nitesh would follow, but Nitesh didn’t. Govinda climbed a tree. He was half way up the tree and looking down. Then Govinda saw his mother standing beside Mumbles outside the hut. His mother was adjusting her hair. She raised her eyes to Nitesh’s face. His mother’s eyes were patient, but the lines of strain were on her forehead. She reached out and brushed her fingers on her dress. Govinda tried to look surprised to see his mother, and she seemed embarrassed to be in the servant quarters, but they smiled and said hello to each other happily enough. The jasmine was no longer in her hair.

‘What are you doing, Govinda?’ The tone of her voice was different, the vibrations more tense. Her face reddened. She wiped some moisture from her upper lip.

‘I did not mean to come this far,’ said Govinda.