by Anne Weale
This year, in place of the football sock, Nicole had designed a drawstring bag and had it made up by one of the craftspeople who were working on her other designs. She filled it with small inexpensive presents and took it to Dan’s room in the last hours of Christmas Eve.
Early next morning she was woken by a rustling sound close to her ear. It was Dan scrunching a handful of wrapping paper, preparatory to announcing, with a big grin, that Father Christmas had found out where they were.
‘Poor Granpa... imagine having to spend Christmas in a hotel with lots of strangers,’ he said, a little later, through a mouthful of chocolate.
By this time they had opened their parcels and Nicole’s bed was strewn with small pieces of decorative paper.
‘They’ll enjoy it,’ she said. ‘When people get older it’s better for them to have all the organising and cooking taken off their shoulders.’
Privately, she felt a pang at the thought of her father spending Christmas without anyone of his own blood to celebrate with him.
‘When it’s mid-morning there, we’ll ring him,’ she said cheerfully. ‘If we can get through.’
Christmas Day was a public holiday throughout India but Karangarh was too far off the main tourist track to have been affected, as yet, by the spread of commercialised Christmas. Kesri had told Nicole that he wanted to keep those aspects at bay as long as possible.
Nevertheless she had felt that modest Christmas presents to him and to Alex would be appropriate. But what to give a maharaja and a man whose spiritual home was the desert had been a big problem. She could only hope that, when they met before dinner, the two men would like the way she had solved it.
‘Were you able to get through to your grandfather?’ Kesri asked Dan, when he and his mother joined the two men for private drinks before joining the guests in the hotel for the festive dinner laid on for them.
‘Yes, thank you, sir. Merry Christmas, sir.’ Dan presented his gift, an audiobook chosen by him and bought with his own money. He then produced a similar present for Alex.
Both men professed themselves delighted. Kesri’s present to Dan was a length of multicoloured cotton intended for use as a turban. It was something Dan had wanted, although not as much as what Alex gave him.
His gasp of astonished pleasure made it clear that the CD he had just unwrapped was something special.
‘It’s a flight simulator, Mum. I’ve been dying for one for ages, and this is the best. Thanks, Alex.’
In a spontaneous gesture, he opened his arms and stepped forward, then stopped short and blushed with embarrassment.
It was clear to Nicole and, she thought, must be plain to the others that her son’s instinctive reaction had been to. give Alex the hug he would have given her father had the present been from him.
To cover his embarrassment, she said, ‘Have you tried it out, Alex? Is it as close to flying as people say?’
‘I haven’t tested it, no. But I checked with a nephew who knows about these things. Perhaps when Dan’s got the hang of it, he’ll let us all have a go.’
He smiled at the boy in a way that made Nicole’s heart ache for all that her son had missed by not having someone like Alex in his life since he was little.
Now it was time for her presents. Kesri gave her a pashmina shawl. Alex’s parcel was larger and heavier, containing a lavishly illustrated book on the history, styles and patterns of the sari. She was overwhelmed by their generosity and had a deflating feeling that her presents to them would seem very meagre by comparison.
‘I hope you’ll make allowances for my deficiencies as a portraitist,’ she said, offering them the two small packages.
What they contained had taken her a long time to do, but now she was not sure it had been a good idea. She had always been attracted by English portrait miniatures, the paintings on ovals of ivory which, in the time before photography, had served as mementoes of loved ones.
The portrait of Kesri she had given to Alex was painted on card, not ivory, but she thought she had caught a good likeness. The one of Alex she had felt curiously reluctant to part with.
‘My dear Nicole, you are too modest, this is really excellent,’ said Kesri. He looked at the portrait of himself that Alex was holding. ‘I had no idea that we were both under your microscope. You must have remarkable powers of observation to have portrayed us so accurately, or were these painted from photographs you took without our knowledge?’
She shook her head. ‘I have quite a good memory for people’s features. And both you and Alex have very striking faces.’
Alex had still not reacted. She wished she could read his mind. Then he looked up.
‘Thank you, Nicole. Anything made by hand is particularly welcome...unless it’s a hideous sweater knitted with more enthusiasm than taste by an ancient great-aunt,’ he added, with a smile. ‘But this is not in that category.’
A few days later, Alex came to the studio while Nicole was working on some adaptations of folk designs she had copied during the trip.
‘Can you take a break? There’s something I want to discuss with you,’ he said.
His tone and manner suggested it was something serious.
‘Is it about Dan?’ she asked, wondering what mischief her son could have perpetrated. So far his behaviour had been exemplary, but he wasn’t an angel and couldn’t be expected always to behave like one.
‘No...at least not directly. But it would affect him,’ said Alex. ‘To come straight to the point, it’s a proposal of marriage. I’ve come to ask you to marry me.’
‘Marry you?’ Nicole said faintly, unable to believe she could have heard him correctly.
‘You sound astonished.’
‘I am!’
‘Why?’ he asked bluntly.
‘Well...because...because I didn’t think you were interested in marrying anyone...least of all me.’
‘Until recently I wasn’t interested in marriage. Or, to be accurate, in marrying again. As you may know, I was married once...a long time ago.’ His expression remained impassive as he went on, ‘My wife was killed a few days after our first wedding anniversary. For years afterwards I blamed myself for putting her in the situation that led to her death. But no amount of remorse can alter the past. I’ve spent too long looking back. Now I have to look to the future. Your son needs a father. My father needs a grandson.’ He paused for a moment. ‘I think you and I both need the practical benefits of marriage. Companionship. Moral support. Someone to share our bed.’
‘What about love? You haven’t mentioned love.’
‘I was in love with my wife. I take it that you were in love with Dan’s father?’
‘Yes.’
Then we’ve both had that kind of young love. It makes more sense now to see love from the Indian perspective...as something that, hopefully, grows from living together and raising children together. You wouldn’t object to having more children, would you?’
I would love to have your child, she thought. Aloud, she said, ‘When Dan was small I wanted him to have siblings. But when it came to the point I couldn’t marry for that reason only. I actually backed out of a relationship with someone who would have made Dan an excellent stepfather because—’ She hesitated, afraid the stark truth might put him off her. Then, deciding this was no time for side-stepping, she went on, ‘Because he was good and true as a person, but completely clueless as a lover. We went away for a weekend. After two nights I knew I couldn’t spend the rest of my life—’
‘Closing your eyes and thinking of England?’ Alex cut in.
Relieved that he seemed amused, she nodded. ‘Exactly.’
‘Would you like to have a weekend somewhere with me before you commit yourself?’
She wasn’t sure if he was serious or taking the mickey.
‘Kesri might take it in his stride. I don’t think Dan would.’
‘I’m sure it could be arranged for him to be elsewhere while I gave you a demonstration of my capabilities.’
/> Refusing to rise to the bait, Nicole said calmly, ‘You’re making me think this whole thing is an elaborate tease.’
‘I assure you it isn’t. I was joking about the demo, but about a marriage between us I couldn’t be more serious. It’s been in my mind since our camping trip.’
‘Perhaps you haven’t thought hard enough. How would your father react to your marrying a woman with a child born outside marriage?’
‘My father credits me with enough sense to choose a wife who will suit me.’
When he left it at that, she said, ‘Don’t you want to know how it happened?’
‘If you want to tell me. Not if you don’t. As I said, the past is behind us.’
‘But I have a living reminder of what, in some people’s eyes, is still a regrettable lapse if no longer a major disgrace.
“‘He that is without sin let him cast the first stone’” “ Alex said. ‘Perhaps you had better tell me what happened. It obviously weighs on your mind.’
‘Only in the context of marriage. If people thinking of marrying aren’t straight with each other from the start, how can it work?’
‘OK...fire away.’
Not sure where to begin, Nicole said, ‘Dan’s father, Pete, was the brother of a schoolfriend of mine. I wasn’t the only one who fell for him. Most of my class were crazy about him. I don’t know why he liked me best. We were chalk and cheese. Pete was into rock music, discos and smoking pot. I was into art books and design magazines. I suppose what kept us together was wanting each other. The urge to mate is so strong at that age. It makes everything else seem unimportant.’
“That’s why, in India, it’s taboo for girls and boys to spend time alone together,’ Alex said dryly.
‘Pete wanted us to make love, but I felt we shouldn’t. I knew it would upset my father if he found out. He trusted me not to do things I’d been brought up to believe were wrong. Then Pete’s father was promoted and they moved away. I missed Pete terribly. After weeks apart, he borrowed a car and drove over to see me. My father was out. We both got carried away. Pete said it would be all right, but it wasn’t. When I told him I was pregnant, he dumped me. He didn’t behave well, but basically it was my fault. I shouldn’t have relied on him to make sure nothing went wrong. A woman’s body is her own responsibility.’
‘He behaved abominably,’ Alex said, scowling. ‘He was the child’s father. To leave you to cope on your own was unforgivably cowardly.’
‘It becomes more understandable when you know what else had just happened to him. The band he was with had just made a single. When a local disc jockey gave it air time, it was an instant hit...the million-to-one breakthrough that every band dreams of. There was no way Peter could fit a pregnant teenage wife into his life. His decision was hard on me, but it was the right one for him.’
‘And where is he now? Stuck in some dead-end job or living on handouts?’ Alex asked cuttingly.
Knowing the scorn in his tone was not aimed at her, she said, ‘No, that’s what usually happens, but in this case it didn’t. He went on to fame and fortune, and it wasn’t a flash in the pan. He’s still a star, a big one. You wouldn’t recognise his stage name because it’s not your sort of music. But most rock fans would.’
‘Does Dan know this?’
‘He knows his father’s real name. Not the rest of it. I’ll tell him that when he’s older...if he asks. He’s never shown much curiosity about his father.’
‘Isn’t that unusual?’
‘Why should he be interested in a father who isn’t interested in him?’
‘I thought children separated from their parents always were: Have you had any contact with his father?’
‘When Dan was three, Pete wrote offering me money. I turned it down. He wrote again saying he had opened a bank account for Dan. He gave me the address of the bank and the account number. If I wanted to draw money from it, all I would have to do would be to produce identification. I don’t know if it’s still there...if he’s still putting money in. If he is, it will be a nest-egg for Dan when he’s older. If he’s prepared to take money in lieu of love.’
‘You have every right to hate Pete, but perhaps there’s a part of you that still loves him,’ said Alex. ‘Women can be incredibly forgiving to men who treat them badly.’
‘I know, but I’m not one of them. I’ve never hated Pete. But I certainly don’t have a lingering yen for him. If you want the unvarnished truth, he made such a botch of my first time that I went off him there and then.’
‘Perhaps it was his first time too,’ Alex suggested. Nicole shook her head. ‘There had been other girls. He had quite a lot of experience, but no understanding of women. He didn’t even try to make it nice for me. Once you realise that, you fall out of love pretty fast”
‘Have all your lovers been bunglers?’
‘I’ve only had three. Considering my age, that isn’t exactly wild living.’
‘How did the third rate?’
‘We had other problems. He was active politically and I find politics boring. He wanted me to learn to play golf. He hadn’t read a book—not even an airport novel—since he left school. We decided it wasn’t going to work.’
‘But it was all right in bed?’
She decided to temper the truth. If she admitted it had not been all right, he would be sure to conclude there was something wrong with her. He might withdraw his proposal.
‘Yes, it was fine,’ she said.
‘Thank God for that,’ said Alex. ‘Three bunglers in succession would have put you off men for life. I’ve always felt sorry for women in that respect. It seems unfair that your pleasure mechanisms are more complicated than ours. Are you sure you can take it on trust that I won’t be a bungler?’
‘I knew that you weren’t a selfish man when you backed off the night I arrived.’
‘There was nothing else I could do.’
‘You could have kissed me again. My resistance wasn’t very strong. You could easily have...overwhelmed me. I’m sure you knew that.’
‘It seemed possible,’ he agreed. ‘Perhaps instinct told me to wait...that delaying might work out better. As it has. You are going to marry me, aren’t you?’
Nicole drew a deep breath. Even with love on both sides, it was such a momentous commitment. With love on only one side, it was even more scary.
‘Yes,’ she said firmly. ‘Yes.’
‘Then shall we seal the agreement in the conventional way?’ He opened his hands, his fingers beckoning her closer.
She took a step towards him, her heartbeat starting to accelerate. His hands settled on her waist. He closed the gap between them, looking into her eyes until the intensity of his gaze made her close them. His lips brushed her temple and cheekbone, moving lightly down to the corner of her mouth and pausing there for several tantalising seconds before taking possession of her lips.
But he didn’t let the kiss blow their minds the way it had last time. Before it got to that stage, he raised his head and relaxed his hold.
‘Let’s get married here...right away.’
‘Can we do that?’
‘Why not? People get married away from wherever they come from all the time. Kesri’s secretary will sort out the formalities for us. All you have to do is decide what you’re going to wear. It won’t be a formal occasion but I expect you’ll want a new dress.’
She wondered what his first wedding had been like. Had the girl called Nuala worn white? Had it been a big family wedding with women in wide-brimmed hats and men in morning dress?
She couldn’t ask. Not now...probably never. It was a part of his life that would always be fenced off and private.
When she told Dan, he was thrilled.
‘That’s brilliant, Mum. It’s what I was hoping would happen, but somehow I got the feeling you weren’t very keen on Alex.’
‘Really? I can’t think why. He’s everything I admire.’
‘Won’t Granpa be surprised? When are you going to ring
him?’
‘I’d better do that right away. I don’t think he’s up to coming here for the wedding. That long flight would be too exhausting.’
‘And if he came, she would come too, and that would spoil it,’ said her son.
“‘She” isn’t polite. Say Rosemary,’ Nicole reproved him, while inwardly agreeing that her stepmother’s presence would cast a blight on the occasion. Her airs and graces wouldn’t cut any ice with Alex and Kesri. They would both detest her, though their impeccable manners would forbid them to show it.
It took some time to get a call through to her father. She wished they had an email link. But Rosemary was suspicious of the Internet and had encouraged him in his mistaken belief that he was too old to cope with it.
It was Rosemary who answered the telephone, insisting on telling Nicole a lot of local gossip she had no desire to hear before finally passing the receiver to her husband.
After asking him how he was, Nicole said, ‘Dad, do you remember finding that newspaper cutting about Dr Alex Strathallen, the man who interviewed me for this job?’
When her father replied that he did, she said, ‘Well, this will come as a surprise, because I haven’t mentioned him much in my letters to you, but he’s asked me to marry him and I’ve said yes. Dan is over the moon. I’ll hope you’ll be pleased for us too. When you meet Alex, I know you’re going to like him.’
‘If you like him, so shall I. This is wonderful news,’ said her father.
After they had said goodbye, Nicole wondered if Rosemary would share his enthusiasm. Most women in her position would have been pleased at the thought of having their husband and their house to themselves. But with her stepdaughter and her husband’s grandson gone, Rosemary would have only one person to harry and that might not suit her as well as having three.
The following day while Dan was out somewhere with Alex, Kesri came to the studio.
‘Alex has told me your news. I’m delighted. You are very well-suited.’
‘Are we? How do you know?’