The Other Side of Paradise Read Online Free Page A

disapproval. They turned down Cavenagh Road and into the driveway of the house and, as the Buick drew up under the front porch, the Indian houseboy, Soojal, came out on to the steps.
    He opened the car door smiling, his white teeth showing glints of gold. ‘
Missee
good swim?’
    ‘Yes, thanks, Soojal. Is the
mem
at home?’
    ‘Up in bedroom. Very bad headache. Li-Ann look after her. You want to feed the doves? I fetch food for them.’
    She couldn’t be bothered; it was too hot. ‘You do it, will you, Soojal. I’m going to lie down.’
    Rex, the latest in a long line of Sealyhams, appeared and she patted the dog’s head and then rubbed the tummy of the smiling glass Buddha as she passed by the table at the foot of the stairs. On the upper verandah she met Li-Ann creeping out of her mother’s room, a finger to her lips.
    ‘
Mem
very bad head,
missee
. Not to disturb.’
    ‘I wasn’t going to.’
    She walked along the verandah to her own room, pulled off her frock and dropped it on the floor for one of the
amahs
to take away and wash. Nana had always cleared up after her: picked up her clothes and her toys, made her bed, tidied her room, looked after everything. At night Nana had slept on a truckle bed on the verandah outside the room, ready to fetch drinks of water, to rearrange pillows, to bring comfort after bad dreams. Always been there.
    The shutters were closed, the room dim and cool, the fan humming overhead sent little draughts of air across her bare skin as she lay on the bed. She could hear the flutter-flutter of the doves flying down from the dovecote and the lovely cooing sound they made. Soojal would be throwing food for them and they would be pecking about his sandalled feet. When she fed them, she sat on the verandah steps and sometimes they sat on her shoulders and cooed sweetly in her ear.
    Her mother had been having migraines for years. Whenever they came on, she would go to lie down in her room – sometimes for several days. In fact, she spent a great deal of time there, with or without a migraine. She always had breakfast in bed on a tray instead of coming downstairs to the east verandah, and she stayed there until mid-morning when she discussed the menus with Cookie in the dining room. After lunch there was a siesta during the hottest part of the day, and then tea served on the lawn in the shade of the jacaranda. When that was finished it was soon time to dress for dinner. Her father, who got up very early and stayed up very late, slept in another room. There had been rows – bad ones. Susan had eavesdropped and heard her mother threatening many times to go back to England. When the war had begun in Europe there had been even bigger rows about returning to be with the London grandparents, but the German U-boats had started to sink liners and the Luftwaffe to bomb England and it had been thought too dangerous to travel.
    She stared up at the ceiling, watching the fan and wondering what to wear that evening at the Bensons. Not a full-scale party, just supper and a bit of dancing afterwards to gramophone records. It would be mostly the same old crowd, Milly had said, so no need to dress up or make much of an effort. The blue and white cotton would do and now that she’d grown her hair longer she could sweep it up at the sides with combs. The new Elizabeth Arden lipstick would go rather well and she could paint her fingernails with the matching polish. What about shoes? The white peep-toe platforms, or the navy courts? The peep-toes were much more fun but they were tricky to walk in and they hurt.
    She slept for about an hour and then got up and took a cool shower. In the end, she decided on the peep-toes and found some big ear clips like outsize white buttons to match. The hair combs looked rather good and so did the scarlet lipstick. She painted her nails the same colour and dabbed her favourite scent,
Je Reviens
, behind her ears and on her wrists.
    Soft-footed, genie-like Soojal appeared as