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Arachchi; Nemesis; Deception; Suspicion; Short; Love; Betrayal
When Victor and Sara decide to adopt a fatherless child, will the serpents who sing in the night hinder or help them?
Leila has moved from an overseas country to New Zealand, where she hopes to begin a new and better life. But what will the consequences be when she looks in the mirror once too often?
Then there’s the dishonest son, a habitual liar, who is overcome by greed and steals his mother’s money.
When Alex is seduced by the black beauty from Tanzania, the lies are compounded. Is his marriage strong enough to withstand the strain?
Oliver’s mother dies at an early age, and as his father’s love for her also dies, Oliver suffers the after-effects when his father turns to drink.
"A striking collection of short fiction told by a distinctive voice with exceptional insight into the devious soul." —Barbara Unkovi

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Fiction

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Publié par	Xlibris NZ
Date de parution	13 mars 2023
Nombre de lectures	0
EAN13	9781669880271
Langue	English

Informations légales : prix de location à la page 0,0200€. Cette information est donnée uniquement à titre indicatif conformément à la législation en vigueur.

Extrait

NEMESIS HELEN’S MOTHER

B. KARASINGHE ARACHCHI

Copyright © 2023 by B. Karasinghe Arachchi.

Library of Congress Control Number:
2023901755
ISBN:
Hardcover
978-1-6698-8029-5
Softcover
978-1-6698-8028-8
eBook
978-1-6698-8027-1

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the copyright owner.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to any actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

Any people depicted in stock imagery provided by Getty Images are models, and such images are being used for illustrative purposes only.
Certain stock imagery © Getty Images.

Rev. date: 02/24/2023

Xlibris
NZ TFN: 0800 008 756 (Toll Free inside the NZ)
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www.Xlibris.co.nz
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CONTENTS
Introduction
Chapter 1 The Songs Of Serpents
Chapter 2 The Gifts Of The Devil
Chapter 3 Underfloor Skeletons
Chapter 4 Alyssa Does Not Lie
Chapter 5 Kōwhai Flowers On Beechwood Bushes
Chapter 6 The Doodle Book Of Charlotte
Chapter 7 Aroma La Florentina
Chapter 8 Visitors Unvisited
Chapter 9 Eyewitness Of The Blind
Chapter 10 Nemesis—Helen’s Mother
About The Author

Nemesis is long delayed sometimes, but it comes in the end.
—Agatha Christie, Nemesis
INTRODUCTION
These are fictionalised versions of events I have seen over my long life.
One Saturday morning, a foreign couple knocked on my door, stood outside, and claimed that the house I lived in belonged to the woman’s father. I bought the house during a foreclosure process two decades ago. It was a cheap buy because I was able to use my position at a lending institution to my advantage.
I had a caveat over the property, but after hearing the couple’s tale, I realised it was unethical. My nemesis was in full swing. There was no escape for me. The story ‘Nemesis—Helen’s Mother’ is based on this event.
The main characters in other stories have similar issues in their lives. But they hide these secrets from others and lead a life of deceit.
Human qualities such as love, bravery, kindness, hate, and anger are used as deities in mythical stories. Nemesis is the goddess of justice in Greek mythology. She rewards anyone who does good and punishes those who do evil or receive unfair prosperity. No one can escape her wrath.
We use our conscience to judge ourselves. Our nemesis is nothing other than our own conscience.
I thank the editor, Barbara Unkovi ć , and the Xlibris editors for their enormous help that made this book a reality.
B. Karasinghe Arachchi
Hamilton, New Zealand

1
THE SONGS OF SERPENTS
Even paradise had its serpent.
— Alexandra Ivy

S ara blinked her eyes open. There was a noise outside the tight-lipped door. Someone wiped his feet. The stink of rotten cabbage sneaked through the entrance to the room, and its foul stench packed her bedroom. Sara clamped her eyelids shut as she waited for the noise to die and sleep to overtake her. Instead, the wind hissed over the metal roof like a serpent.
What the heck is going on? She looked up and around her. Is someone trying to open the door? Who is entering our space? she asked herself. ‘Victor!’ she called out.
Victor was her husband.
Victor was not in bed. His sheets were split in half, with one set piled on the floor and the other on the rug. She checked the time; 2.32—before dawn. It was an ungodly hour in the morning. Where had he gone?
‘Victor!’ she called him again. ‘Where are you?’
‘Victor!’ Sara screamed once more. Someone flushed the toilet. Victor came running.
‘What is it?’ he asked. ‘I . . .’ He paused for a second. ‘I just used the bathroom.’
‘Bathroom?’ she asked. ‘That noise . . . what is it? That smell?’
‘What do you think?’ Victor put his hand on her shoulder and helped her lie down on the bed.
‘What is that awful smell?’
Victor sniffed and looked at the door.
‘Nothing. You’re just tired,’ he said. ‘I know you overthink. Worried about nothing.’
‘Worried about nothing,’ she repeated. ‘Wish it was nothing.’
Victor’s eyes were riveted on her. ‘What’s the matter?’ he asked.
‘What is what?’ She sighed and averted her gaze. ‘It just haunted me what your mother once said.’
‘What exactly was it?’
‘Singing serpents.’
‘Forget that nonsense,’ Victor said. ‘You worry too much.’
‘Maybe not,’ she said. ‘Anyway, when is Janet leaving?’ Sara changed the subject.
Janet, the pregnant woman, slept like an unfinished crossword puzzle in the corner room. Her first child was due in three months.
‘After the child’s birth, she will finish the paperwork, hand over the child to us, and leave. In three months. It’s what she promised. The child is fatherless. We will adopt him. He will then be our child. It’s the law.’
Sara sniffed the air. ‘Still stinks. What is this? It’s like a bug crushed under the pillow?’ She gasped and flipped over the pillow and sniffed. ‘The stench of spotted vipers.’
‘It’s nothing. There are no serpents here. Please sleep,’ Victor said.
‘Who knows?’ she snapped. ‘Serpents are everywhere, in different forms, sometimes singing behind our backs.’
‘Come on,’ Victor said. ‘For God’s sake, forget the past. Janet is returning to her previous job in the Middle East. That is all.’
‘Young age with a nice figure.’
‘Yeah . . . so?’ Victor stammered.
‘Will she be safe there?’
‘What do you mean?’
‘Snakebites.’ Sara sighed deeply. ‘She has lost her battle here, and then in the Middle East?’
‘She will be more cautious now.’
‘Very hard, very hard. Serpents can sting you at any time.’
‘T . . .’ he hesitated. ‘True,’ he said. ‘Now sleep. We will talk in the morning. I’m tired.’
‘People abuse young women everywhere, all the time. Isn’t that right?’ Sara asked.
‘Yes,’ Victor said. ‘Will you sleep now?’ He crept under the blanket. ‘When she leaves, that is the end of the story.’
‘Who knows?’ She sighed. ‘It could also be a start of another . . .’
Victor said nothing.
Again, the laughter of a male started somewhere outside the house, increased, echoed, and trailed off. Next, Janet began to snuffle.
‘Victor,’ Sara said again, raising her head, ‘can you hear it? Janet is making some unusual noises. Is she all right?’
But Victor was fast asleep.
‘Janet always snores while sleeping,’ Sara muttered.
The corner room was the most convenient place for Janet. She could use the bathroom, or call Victor or Sara if necessary. Victor had made all the arrangements for her to return to the Middle East when she was ready. It would be either Kuwait or Saudi Arabia. Victor was the only one who knew where she was going.

A child! Sara imagined. The poor thing would sleep clinging to her in the night. He would sing and dance, and throw his hands and feet in the air when he was happy. He would scratch his mother’s and father’s faces with his soft, needle-like fingernails. How sweet.
Sara stood up and listened at the door. Janet remained silent. A light breeze shook the leaves outside. Victor snorted, stretched his hands, curved his legs, and blew some more. Sara observed how broad his forehead was, how mature his features were. The broad jaws and well-dressed nose were very masculine. Could Janet’s child be like him? Sara thought that children took the shape of the person the mother liked the most. Who knows? There could be other reasons too for where a child got its appearance.
She opened the bedroom cupboard without disturbing Victor, took out the tiny white cardboard box she had hidden there the day before, and untied the rosy ribbon that had been wrapped around it. She smiled and kissed the teeny-weeny bodysuit and unfolded it. Then she kissed the small paper bag containing some plain stay-on socks from H&H Infants Girls, refolded them, and carefully placed them back in the bag. The rose-coloured beanie kept in a side pocket was very cute. She kissed that also.
Victor groaned and shook his body. Sara returned everything to the box, placed it in the cupboard, and shut the door. It was motherly love, too far to reach. Soon, there would be a toddler running around the rooms, kitchen, bathroom, veranda, and lounge, drawing pictures on the walls with black and green chalk, hiding behind the doors, swinging, laughing, and singing. Victor wanted a boy, and she wanted a small angel to wear the cute shoes and ride in her hands.
Shoes, shoes, it’s time to wear your shoes
Yes, yes, yes, I want to wear my shoes . . .

The picture with a seaside scene that hung on the wall was from Sri Lanka. The image of the coconut grove bending over the seashore whisked Sara back to the start of her romance when she was a young schoolgirl. Sara and Victor had met at that spot; on, weekends they spent hours gazing at the sea. They were classmates at a village school in Galle, Sri Lanka. After graduating, they sought their parents’ approval to marry.
‘No,’ said Victor’s mother, Mary. ‘Daniel Silva is the best astrologer in the who