A Hiding To Nothing: Domestic Thriller Unravels In Chhimi Tenduf-La's New Book

In this high-stakes offering that marries domestic drama with international suspense, Devin Pinto, the young son of Neja and Ramesh, is kidnapped on a day trip out of Colombo. There are no clues and no ransom demands. The police cannot be involved, and in Sri Lanka's cloistered high society, Devin's abduction must be kept secret while the Pintos work their way through back channels. Lush with twists and turns, Tenduf-La’s latest uncovers family secrets, illicit affairs while weaving real-world concerns into a fast-paced suspense novel.

Here's an excerpt from Chhimi Tenduf-La's A Hiding To Nothing

Neja ambles back towards the reception, spinning around just as quickly. Cassandra Beyonce Wanigesekara and the other school mums are in the air-conditioned lounge to the left. Neja got the message, but did not reply. The bloody fundraiser. Shit, shit, shit. Cassandra waves at Neja with one hand, cupping the other to whisper into someone’s ear. Neja makes as if to wave back, instead swivelling around to march to the car park.

‘Oh, my god, Mrs Neja Pinto, you made it.’ Avanthi appears as if from nowhere, but Neja guesses she came from the washroom, which means she probably heard Neja trying to vomit, and now, the whole of Colombo will hear the same sounds on repeat. Avanthi looks Neja up and down. Her gym kit, cap and sunglasses. Her lack of make-up. Her flip-flops.

‘I got the time wrong,’ Neja says. ‘I’m so sorry.’

‘Thought you could fit in a workout first?’ Her hand up. ‘Don’t worry. I admire you for that. If I had your discipline, maybe that gossip Facebook site wouldn’t call me the all-around-Colombo-frumpy-dumpy.’

Neja doesn’t know if she should laugh. ‘Let me grab a very quick shower, and I’ll come join you all.’

Avanthi links her right arm through Neja’s left. ‘No need for that. We’re almost done, and everyone was asking about you.’

She pulls Neja into the room. When the door swings shut behind them, Neja is trapped in a force field of perfumes battling for attention. She loses her footing. People air-kissing her from all corners. Singing her name. Neja hates this at the best of times, but when Devin is missing, it literally kills her.

‘Darling,’ Cassandra says. ‘We earmarked you for being in charge of sponsorship. You know, using your charm and maybe your mother-in-law’s contacts.’

Neja nods and tries to smile. ‘Okay.’

A round of applause initiated by Cassandra. ‘I told them you’d say yes. What a team player.’

While Neja’s son is locked up in a room somewhere, she has to waste valuable time listening to this crap for the next twenty or so minutes. She doesn’t take any of it in except that the cost per plate at their fundraiser gala is enough to feed a poor family for a month, and they do not see the irony.

Cassandra, dressed in what is clearly Versace, or there would be no point, pulls Neja to a corner. ‘Did you get my message that I needed to tell you something to your face?’

‘I did.’

Cassandra shakes her head, as if no one should ever dare get a message from her and not reply. ‘Before she comes over and pretends to be all lovey-dovey, you should probably know that Avanthi has been telling everyone who will listen that you’re having an affair.’

‘She said that?’

Cassandra nods before being beckoned to the front to make a speech. ‘Hi! Magazine will be there, of course, so we need to get some celebs,’ Cassandra says into the mic, which is ironic because all these women here think they are famous in their own right.

Neja gets through the meeting, two glasses of wine down and having not said anything else. Yet, it is the Sri Lankan goodbye she fears the most. When the conversation really starts.

‘Is Devin still ill?’ Avanthi asks. ‘He wasn’t at football today.’

‘I hope he’s okay,’ some random woman says as if she knows Devin. ‘There are stories, I am sure you know.’

‘Stories?’ Neja asks. She can feel everyone staring at her. Silence. Her face is slack, her hair covering much of it from both sides. ‘What do you mean?’

‘Oh, it’s nothing,’ Avanthi says. ‘You know, typical Colombo crap.’

‘But you never answer questions on the class thread,’ the random woman says. She is on the class thread? Who the hell is she? ‘So, the rumours just got worse. You know how jealous some mums are. Of course, I defended you. Said it can’t be true.’

‘What can’t be true?’ Neja asks.

‘Just that they claimed Devin may have been asked to leave school,’ the woman says.

Neja glares at her from the feet up to her eyes. Locking in. For what seems like minutes. Her son has missed three days of school. That’s it. Where the hell did this rumour come from? Neja puts down her empty glass of wine, and it wobbles around on its base.

‘Devin is at his grandmother’s.’

Neja steadies the glass and ambles away, swaying a little from side to side. She pushes open the door, but as she gets through it, her right flip-flop gets caught and breaks. Neja picks it up and leaves.

She hobbles as fast as she can to the car. The sole of her right foot feels the asphalt burning hot in the sun. She drives back past the entrance to the club, the loop that takes her towards the gate. The school mums look out of the window, all painted faces, wire-sponge hair and exaggerated looks of concern.

A knock on the back of the car. Shaken by memories of the day Devin was taken, Neja slams down on the brakes.

The receptionist by her window. She rolls it down.

‘If you’re looking for Johnny Dias,’ the receptionist says, ‘keep your phone on.’

Excerpted with permission from A Hiding to Nothing, Chhimi Tenduf-La, Hachette India.