The Jacaranda Tree

Chapter 1

THE EARLY LIGHT OF DAY became tender yellow on the dust and shone on the pale, coffee-colored face of Paterson's boy Tuesday. He was wearing a football shirt, and carried under his arm a small radio set. He seemed to be listening for some sound to come out of the set , and his brown eyes seemed to trust that it would .He could not believe otherwise. Paterson had given him the set , and everything that Paterson did must be right . Paterson had also given him the football shirt ;and these simple things , together with Paterson himself and the boys elder sister , the girl whom Paterson called Nadia , were all that he possessed in the world .No other boy in Burma possessed such things .No other boy ever would.

Paterson's bungalow stood with its back to the river, facing the dry rice-fields and the mountains beyond .At the back of it grew some trees, with bright leaves waving dustily,

And beyond them was the rice mill . now at the beginning of the hot season , in march the entire bungalow was like a house of flame ,almost hidden by masses of red flowers that flowed down the roof and over the white verandah ,like fire .

Davidson had been the manager before Paterson. And had made a Garden with grass and flowers .Boys had watered the grass in the evenings ; but Paterson did not seem to care for gardens and nothing now remained of it except , in the center, bright blue flowers had begun to show themselves among the leaves , and their fresh brightness made the dust seem dead .

In the kitchen Tuesday cheerfully began to prepare Patterson's tea . It was a quarter to five . Paterson must be woken at five .Paterson would take tea without milk, and as many aspirins as the day or night before, demanded. One aspirin was nearly ordinary; two were not serious; but after three the boy was never sure. Standing by Paterson's bed , smiling ,very cheerful , he would wait for Paterson to throw the cup at his head.

After that the day was very simple .Paterson went to the mill, and the boy laid breakfast. When Patterson returned , he did wonderful things with the radio set. In a second the boy could hear the strange things far voices , the music , the news of war that came from London and Rangoon. And as he stood smilingly by Paterson's table, serving his breakfast , he could think of only one thing that could delight him more .it was that Paterson should allow him to wait at table in his shirt . This shirt was an old evening shirt of Paterson's , but the boy wore it only on important occasions.

If he desired anything more than this , it was to hear voices in the old radio set that paterson had thrown away and was now his own. Every evening , in his own hut, he took the set to pieces and then put it together again .Every evening he listened and waited . Nothing had so far happened to break the silence and bring the voices and the music to him as they were brought to paterson , but he did not doubt that , if he were patient , something would.

The bungalow had two floors and sleeping verandahs back and front .the nights were still cool enough for Paterson to sleep inside. On the top of the stairs for a moment and listened and since the day the boy had first brought her to the house , Patterson had called her Nadia , partly because it was a name he liked ,partly because he would not worry himself with Burmese names ,beautiful thought they were . in the same way he called the boy Tuesday was the day he has walked in , tired and smiling, from the country somewhere east of Shwebo.

" Patson sir". Tea " he said . "Tea".

When Paterson moved at the fifth or sixth call he sat straight up , as if something had hit him. It was in the moment for which the boy was ready and yet in a way , from one morning to another, never really sure .And now he stood smiling , waiting for Patterson's first act of the day.

It astonished him when it came. Paterson pushed back the bed clothes and got straight out of bed. The boy could remember nothing of the kind ever happening before. He did not move .He watched Paterson walk three times across the bedroom. Paterson did not even touch the aspirins, but came over to the boy and ran one hand through his hair. For a second the boys heart began beating very fast and his smile widened to a look of fear.

"Tuesday!" Paterson said:

"Yes sir. Yes, Patson sir"

"The war is getting bad, Tuesday. Things are happening."

"Yes, sir. Yes patson."

"I want you to go over to Bettson sir with a message. See?"

"Yes Patson sir."The boy began running at once, going out of the back of the bungalow as Paterson went out out of the front .Paterson too walked quickly, passing the place where the place where the tender blue flowers of the jacaranda tree made the only colour against the white dust that came right up to the steps of the verandah like a stretch of empty shore .

As he walked across to the dust road leading down to the mill, the girl Nadia watched him from the upstairs verandah Unlike the boy, she knew what was wrong with Paterson. For a few moments in the middle of the night she had stood by patersons door , listening to the radio he kept by his bedside .From Rangoon the news came first in English that she could hardly understand , and then in the educated Burmeese that was a little less foreign to her .She understood only that the voices were without hope and they spoke of terrible events . She understood that the war which had seemed very far away had now begun to come very near her . she knew that it might affect not only herself and Tuesday, who did not matter, but Paterson , who mattered very much.

A moment later she saw that Paterson was running