The Last Theorem - Arthur Charles Clarke [49]
10
A NEW LIFE FOR THE KANAKARATNAMS
He did have the van, because his father had told him to keep it for commuting to work, so he could drive them. At least he could as soon as he had notified the foreman that his brother-in-law could have his payday a little longer. By the time he got back to Dot’s house, everything was ready. Twenty minutes later he had the children, squealing with excitement in the back of the van, while Dot sat beside him, studying the harbor as they approached.
The port was not a sight Ranjit had seen much of since Sri Lanka had attained peace. True, there were reminders of the unruly outside world. On the far side of the harbor he could make out the shark shapes of a couple of nuclear submarines, probably Indian, and so much else! There were fishing vessels, of course, and not of the four-or five-man kind that were pulled up on every beach around the island. These were the deepwater craft that would sail a hundred kilometers or more from land for the commercially valuable schools. There were freighters of all kinds and sizes, being relieved of their containers or bulk cargoes or having new ones loaded. And Ranjit saw with astonishment that there were several ships of a different kind entirely—painted brilliant white, festooned with lifeboats hanging in their davits, lined with rows of portholes. Why, the cruise ships were back! Ranjit couldn’t help pulling over to let the children get a look. He expected childish whoops of excitement and was puzzled when what he got instead was the children’s endless whispering in each other’s ears.
Dot, however, was having no delays. “Settle down,” she ordered the children. Then to Ranjit, “I’d like to get there as soon as I can. Do you see the souvenir shop next to where those white ships are docked? I think that’s the place.”
It was a fairly shabby little kiosk, not particularly busy, either. A few elderly tourists in bright-colored shorts and imitation Hawaiian shirts were desultorily studying its picture postcards and plastic elephant figurines. But it was where Dot Kanakaratnam insisted on going, children and all. She reassured him. “Yes, this is the place. Our friends will come for us, and now, Ranjit, you must go. And,” she added, suddenly flinging her arms around him, “the children will miss you, and so will I!” One after another the children gave him their own hugs. And, as Ranjit drove away, he could see that they were all crying.
Of course Ranjit didn’t cry. He was a grown man. Anyway, people were looking at him.
Ranjit was in no hurry to get back to his job on the beach, no longer with any small children there to amuse him. Four or five little restaurants and snack shops were nearby, ready for the custom of the cruise ship passengers. He parked near the least unattractive of them for a cup of tea and sat for a time musing over how rapidly little children could win over a heart.
It was odd, he thought, that Dot should know details such as, for instance, that she was going to get an apartment with the job but not seem to know what the job itself was going to be. It almost made Ranjit wonder if Dot was being less than truthful with him.
But that was a thought easy to dismiss. What reason could the woman have to keep secrets from him? When he left the shop he cast a quick glance at where he had left them.
They were gone.
Ranjit wished them a silent good-bye and good luck, and drove unhurriedly along the bay front. He passed a sweet-smelling little freighter being loaded with cinnamon for export, next to a container ship from Singapore now unloading (it was safe to assume) cars, computers, and domestic appliances from the factories of China. Next was the cluster of cruise ships, a good deal more bedraggled at close range than they had at first seemed. A few passengers who apparently had had no interest in the ground tours to Swami Rock or his father’s temple lounged around the railings of the upper decks. One was a little girl who was waving joyously in his direction….
No! It wasn’t just any little girl. It was tiny Betsy Kanakaratnam!