I'm waiting for Maya to arrive. My husband has gone to the airport to pick her up. He phoned to say they were not far, so that I tidy myself up. I want myself and the baby to be clean and powdered when Maya arrives. I want my daughter to be at her most sweet and fragrant, so that her aunt will love her like I do, right from the start.

My sister is younger than I am, but no one would ever have guessed. Even when we were at school, she was the responsible one. She was the one who got a scholarship to England. I was the pretty one who got into trouble. My parents used to send us out together so that SHE could keep and eye on ME, not the other way round.

The baby is asleep; I pick up her carrycot up and take her into the veranda so that I can see the car turn the corner. It's still early enough that we can sit out there without baking in the heat. The air is still tinted with dew and jasmine. I put the carrycot on the low table and sit in the reclining chair next to it.

I haven't seen Maya in three years. I hope she's changed, but I doubt it. She phones me once a fortnight. Our chats have got shorter of late. When I told her about my pregnancy she said, "you'll make a great mother Malini," in a too bright voice.

"You'll be an Auntie," I reminded her.

"Yes. I guess I will." She paused, "don't know if I'll be any good at it."

"Sure you will."

"Hmm. We'll see."

I knew she was thinking 'but I hate kids' - which isn't true. She just fails to notice them, just like she fails to notice men nowadays. My parents keep trying to introduce her to prospective husbands. She laughs and tells them that if she's single when she's thirty, they can start looking. Until then, she has to work. I think she's aiming for a Nobel prize. She never did aim low.

Finding her a husband won't be easy. Not because she's plain. Not at all. She's average looking, but when she starts speaking, she's immediately the brightest thing in the room. But that's part of the problem. She needs a man who likes a clever woman. A man that can compete with the petri dishes and slides. One that can spot the core of hardness in her and leave well alone.

My baby turns her head in her sleep, a little fist rubs the tiny nose and flops back onto the pillow. I wonder what she'll grow up to be. Beautiful, I think, and charming, like her father. Right now, I don't want her to grow up. I want her to stay tiny and perfect for ever. I kiss her forehead.

I check my watch. They must have run into traffic. No matter. The baby is quiet and I'm happy. I curl my legs under me and lean back. With any luck, they'll get here before my parents start fretting. They're a bit upset that she's coming straight to our house instead of theirs, but they're glad she's enthusiastic to see her niece. We never told Amma anything, but she knows that all is not right. Maya was so thin and flinty when she came back the last time. It was as though by losing weight she'd lost her warmth as well. Amma noticed the little things- like the way Maya was always restless. The way she no longer had stories to tell about college. The way her smile never quite made it to her eyes. She tried to hide it, but I guess a mother knows. I can understand that now.

Maya never cries. Not since she went to that very dark place and cried her way back out again. I can't ever understand what she went through. I've never been that unhappy. I still have tears left to spill.

The car! I go to the front entrance as it crunches up the drive. Maya jumps out almost before the wheels have stopped moving.

"Malini." She runs up the steps and gives me a hug. Then, she hesitates and looks at me. I nod towards the cot. She peers into it, as though afraid of what she might see. "Oh… oh." She's staring at my baby, mouth slightly open. Suddenly, she looks very young.

"Do you want to hold her?" I say.

She nods.

I make her sit in the chair and gently hand her the baby. She picks my daughter up as though the baby were made of glass. Her hands are shaking. My daughter yawns in Maya's arms and sticks a chubby hand in her mouth.

"Oh my," says Maya, staring down. "She's… oh Malini."

When she looks up, her eyes are wet. I throw my arms round the both of them and hold them close. Against my arm, I can feel a tear rolling down Maya's cheek.

I never thought I'd be so pleased to see my sister cry.

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