Desert Honeymoon

by Anne Weale

‘Alex and I are like brothers. I’ve known you a much shorter time, but the way you have brought up your son is proof that you’ll be a good wife. It’s not easy for a woman to raise a boy on her own. Too often she becomes over-protective and over-possessive. You’ve avoided those pitfalls. Dan is a splendid chap. I don’t think you need to worry that he’ll be jealous when you have children with Alex. He’s past the age when noses get put out of joint.’

  ‘I hope so,’ said Nicole.

  This was something she had thought about during a wakeful night. Lying in bed, unable to sleep, she wondered if a marriage made for ‘practical benefits’ could ever lead to the kind of marriage she had always hoped for. That practical marriages appeared to work in India, and had once been common in the western world, didn’t allay her misgivings. Nor did the fact that everyone who knew about Alex and herself seemed in favour of their alliance.

  She wondered if Kesri had mentioned it to his sister yet and hated the thought of Chandra being heartbroken. In many ways she and Alex seemed ideally matched... unless, despite his close friendship with Alex, Kesri would not wish to have him for a brother-in-law and Alex knew that.

  The next time they were alone, she said, ‘Alex, do you realise that Chandra’s regard for you goes much deeper than a sisterly affection?’

  He didn’t look surprised by her question. ‘I know how Chandra feels, but I don’t return those feelings. Even if I had been fond of her in that way, it couldn’t have worked. In her heart of hearts, she knows this. Chandra has made a commitment to spend the rest of her life improving the lot of less privileged women. She’ll never leave India. Sooner or later I must give up my freedom and go back to Scotland to take on my father’s responsibilities. You do understand what lies ahead of you, don’t you? One of these days you’re going to have to share that future with me?’

  ‘If you think I’m capable of doing whatever it involves.’

  ‘In the past, when a woman’s primary function was being a wife and mother, Strathallen wives were more involved than they will be in the future. You’re a professional designer. I wouldn’t ask you to give up your career. I’m sure you’d refuse anyway. All you will have to do is make yourself pleasant at a few social occasions and give birth to however many children we decide to have.’

  One of her troubling night-thoughts came into her mind. ‘What if I can’t produce any children? Have you considered that?’

  ‘Was Dan’s birth difficult? Were you advised against having more children?’

  She shook her head. ‘His birth was very easy. But sometimes women of my age have a problem conceiving.’

  Unexpectedly, he put out his hand and stroked her cheek with the backs of his fingers. ‘You talk as if your biological clock was striking the eleventh hour. You’re only just in your thirties. You have plenty of time to have two or three more children...and our income will allow you to have plenty of help with the nursery chores.’

  ‘I wouldn’t want to hand over my...our babies to other people. I’d put my career on hold while they were little, or at least reduce my commitments.’

  ‘That’s up to you. I wouldn’t press you to do it. I hope to keep my own work going even after I have to go back to Scotland. Though, once that happens, I won’t be able to come to India much.’

  ‘Must you take over from your father? Is your sense of duty so strong that you wouldn’t be able to live with yourself if you didn’t?’

  ‘I’ve thought about that a lot. Should anyone have their life, or even a part of it, mapped out for them in advance? At the highest level, should the heirs to thrones have to accept being crowned if they don’t want to be? With Princely India now history, must Kesri accept all the burdens that go with his privileges? At a much lower level, must I? It’s certainly not my choice to spend the last half of my life in a draughty castle in an unfriendly climate. But is it my duty? What do you think?’

  She knew that he wasn’t really asking her opinion. His decision was already made. He just wanted to see what she would say.

  ‘How can I possibly answer that? I come from a long line of people whose lives are forgotten in two or three generations. My only family heirloom is my mother’s grandmother’s locket. So I don’t have a clue how I’d feel if I were in your or Kesri’s shoes. I can see that your father might want you to follow him and, if you’d given him your word, you wouldn’t want to go back on it.’

  ‘You’ve got it in one,’ said Alex. ‘When it all seemed too far ahead to be real, I promised my father I’d hold the estate together for my son. Now that eventuality isn’t as remote as it was in my early twenties.’

  ‘But if your father is in good health, it’s still a long way off. You might die before he does.’ Even to suggest the possibility sent a shiver of anguish through her.

  Now that she loved him, how could she bear a world where he had ceased to exist? ‘I think we should live in the present and let the future take care of itself. But whatever happens, if I’m your wife, I’ll go wherever you have to go.’

  ‘There’s no “if” about it. It’s settled. You are going to be my wife,’ he said, taking her in his arms. ‘But I don’t think fundamentalist feminists would approve of you being ready to pack up and follow wherever I lead.’

  ‘I don’t need their approval. I have my own convictions. Two women I was at school with have split with their partners because their careers were pulling in dif ferent directions. If I knew what had happened to the rest of the class, there are probably more in that situation. But even top jobs aren’t secure any more. The only real security is a strong...relationship.’ She had almost said ‘strong and loving’ but managed to clip off the words that were inappropriate, hoping he hadn’t noticed the brief hiatus.

  But Alex’s thoughts had changed direction. ‘Stop talking and kiss me,’ he commanded.

  Nicole was happy to comply but no sooner had she raised her lips than there was the sound of whistling and moments later Dan’s voice calling, ‘Mum, are you here?’ from the lobby.

  Chandra didn’t come to the wedding because, so she wrote, it clashed with an unbreakable speaking engagement. But she sent them an exquisite wedding present: an Indian miniature painting of lovers resting under a tree by the edge of a lake fringed with lotus flowers. With it was a note, which Nicole felt sure was sincere, wishing them a lifetime of happiness.

  Nicole woke up on her wedding day determined not to allow her private misgivings to cloud what should be one of the happiest days of her life.

  So far, her happiest days had been her graduation from art school and the day she first saw Dan. Because of the circumstances, she had been afraid she might find it hard if not impossible to love him. But when they had given him to her, with his eyes tightly shut and his tiny mouth pursed in furious resentment at being forced out of his previous and much cosier environment, she had felt a surge of protectiveness.

  To her relief he hadn’t looked at all like his father. For by then her infatuation had died and she knew how stupid she had been to let it overrule her common sense. It had never been love that she felt. Like numerous other silly girls she had been swept away by a teenage crush and, without her father’s support, it could have wrecked her life.

  Dan came to her room while she was putting on her make-up. It had been decided the wedding would be extremely informal with the bridegroom and his prospective step-son wearing open-necked shirts and chinos. Dan’s blue shirt and pale beige trousers had been made for him by a Karangarh tailor.

  ‘Hi, Mum. How are you feeling? Nervous?’ he asked.

  ‘Not specially. You’re looking nice. Do you like my outfit?’ She gestured to where it was hanging.

  After several changes of mind, she had settled for a version of the satwar kameez she had admired in the garden at the Imperial on her first day in Delhi. Both the long tunic and loose trousers were made from printed silk in shades of hot pink and deep red that might look garish in Europe but vibrated beautifully together in the strong light of Rajast
han.

  ‘I didn’t know brides wore red.’

  ‘They do in India. Wonderful red and gold saris.’

  ‘Oh, help, I almost forgot This is for you...from Alex.’ Dan fished in his pocket and brought out a small flat velvet-covered box. ‘He gave it to me last night.’

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  NICOLE had not expected a present and had nothing to give in return. The case contained a pair of flamboyant gold and ruby earrings. She knew that the city of Jaipur, the capital of Rajasthan, was famous for the cutting and polishing of gemstones, but had not known that work of this quality was to be found in Karangarh. The earrings were perfect with her outfit, much more exciting than the plain gold hoops she had planned to wear.

  Dan stayed until she was ready and it was time to make their way to the hotel part of the palace and the room where both the formalities and the wedding lunch were being held.

  At the entrance to the hotel they were met by two of the palace staff who carefully lifted a garland of jasmine over Nicole’s head and adorned her son with a garland of golden marigolds.

  Kesri and Alex, who were waiting for them in the bridal chamber, were also wearing garlands.

  The registrar who was to conduct the ceremony had already arrived. After the introductions, everyone took their places and in a very short time the official part of the occasion was over and she was a married woman being photographed with her husband.

  It wasn’t until champagne was being served that she was able to thank Alex for the earrings.

  ‘I had a hunch you might decide to follow the custom of the country and wear red today. It suits you. You look gorgeous,’ he told her, smiling.

  ‘Thank you.’ She wondered if he meant it or was merely playing his part.

  When they had eaten lunch, Kesri made a short speech wishing them health and happiness.

  ‘Now, in conclusion, I have a surprise for you,’ he said. ‘You thought you were spending your wedding night in the haveli that we finished restoring last month. But we have arranged something even more romantic for you...the first of our Desert Honeymoons. Alex knows the desert and its inhabitants as well as anyone. In the short time she has been here, Nicole has been quick to understand how the traditions of our past can be adapted to the future. It seems highly appropriate that these two people should be the ones to “test drive” this exciting innovation.’

  Nicole smiled and tried to looked pleased, while inwardly feeling that their honeymoon might be testing enough without the guinea pig element

  The haveli Kesri had mentioned was one of the many houses built by affluent merchants in Karangarh’s heyday. Its restoration complete, it was going to house the new tourist office with two luxury apartments above, in one of which they had been going to spend the first forty-eight hours of their new life together.

  She also felt that a wedding trip in the desert would make Dan feel more left out. But it turned out that Kesri had another surprise up his sleeve. Immediately after the wedding, he was flying to Jaisalmer, another of Rajasthan’s fortress-cities, and taking Dan with him.

  ‘Did you know about the change of plan?’ she asked Alex, after they had waved goodbye to his friend and her son as they left for the airstrip.

  ‘I knew about Jaisalmer, not about the “test drive”. But it’s typical of Kesri. Once he gets an idea in his head, he can’t wait to see it in action.’ He tucked her hand through his arm to stroll back across the huge courtyard and into the palace. ‘He’ll expect a written report, you know. You’ll have to make careful notes.’

  It was said with a poker face but she knew he was teasing and laughed. ‘How far will we have to drive? I’d better change into something more suitable.’

  ‘While you’re doing that, I’ll check out the details. I wouldn’t expect the location to be too far away because of the logistics. I’ll come and pick you up as soon as I know the arrangements.’ Taking her hand from his arm, he raised it to his lips and kissed it before taking off in a different direction from the route to her quarters.

  Nicole had already packed what she would need for a couple of nights in the haveli. She had been planning to stay in her wedding outfit for the rest of the day, but now she changed into combat trousers and a T-shirt.

  When Alex joined her, he said, ‘As I thought, it’s not far as the crow flies but Kesri has devised a route that will make the honeymooners who follow us feel they’re a lot further from civilisation than they actually are. Are you ready to go?’

  Normally Nicole had a good sense of direction. But once they were out of sight of Karangarh, she found it hard to keep her bearings as they followed a series of rough tracks across arid wasteland and, later, among barren dunes that all looked alike to her.

  She wondered what they would find when they reached their destination and how many people had been assigned to look after them. She wondered if Alex would wait until tonight to make love to her. Or if he would want to retire to their sleeping quarters soon after they arrived.

  What activities did a desert honeymoon offer other than making love? Reading? Going for walks among the dunes? Maybe, for a couple who were mad about each other, Kesri’s brainchild was a great idea. But in this particular marriage, where the madness was all on one side, suddenly a desert seemed the most unsuitable location imaginable.

  ‘You’ve gone very quiet,’ said Alex, taking his eyes off the track for a few seconds to give her a searching glance.

  Rather than share her inappropriate thoughts, she told him something that had been in her mind soon after waking that morning.

  ‘I was thinking that if, six months ago, a fortune teller had predicted a tall dark stranger, a journey to a far country and a wedding, I’d have dismissed it as impossible nonsense.’

  ‘The journey might have seemed far-fetched. I don’t know why you would have thought the stranger and the wedding nonsensical. What surprises me is that you haven’t been snapped up before,’ he said, with a smiling look.

  It was a pleasant thing to hear, but she couldn’t help wondering if he meant it or was just being nice to her.

  Before she could think of a suitable reply, their destination came into view. A magnificent tent, almost large enough to accommodate an English wedding reception or a country house auction, had been erected in a valley in the dunes.

  ‘That’s a relic of the days of the shikars...the great tiger hunts,’ said Alex, as they approached it. ‘In Kesri’s grandfather’s time, VIPS visiting Rajasthan would be invited to shoot blackbuck from the back of an open Rolls-Royce speeding across the desert at fifty miles an hour. It seems strange to us now that people would want to kill wild animals. But it wasn’t the shikars that nearly wiped out the tiger. It was the destruction of their habitats. So you needn’t have scruples about sleeping under the canvas that sheltered the trophy hunters.’

  The suggestion was so far removed from what was on her mind that she almost laughed.

  ‘I don’t,’ she said candidly. ‘They lived in a different age and had different outlooks.When Kesri was showing me round, soon after I arrived, he told me a few of the hotel visitors didn’t approve of the stuffed tigers around the palace until he pointed out they were historic relics like the handprints of the women who sacrificed themselves on their husbands’ funeral pyres. I’ve forgotten the date he said that custom was banned.’

  ‘About a hundred and seventy years ago. I hate seeing those little handprints on palace walls,’ Alex said, frowning. ‘We’re all bound by custom in some way, but I can’t understand how men with power and influence, if they cared for their wives, could allow that custom to continue.’

  Nicole wished she hadn’t mentioned the subject. Perhaps, for Alex, the handprints left by the women who had died in that way might evoke painful personal memories of his first wife’s death.

  Today, of all days, she did not want to think about the girl he had married for love, or to feel that he was remembering Nuala. Yet logic told her that thoughts of his first wife must ha
ve been in his mind from the moment he woke. How could they not have been? Inevitably, certain occasions triggered memories of similar occasions. She herself had been reminded of friends’ weddings. How could he have closed his mind to his own first wedding day?

  As they neared the great tent, two of the palace staff came out of the canopied entrance. By the time Alex stopped the Jeep, they were waiting with welcoming smiles to deal with the small amount of luggage.

  The interior of the tent encompassed more than one room, the one immediately inside the doorway being arranged and furnished as a sitting room with comfortable chairs, small tables and even a writing table. On top of a pegged-taut canvas flooring, several beautiful rugs had been spread.

  ‘Let’s have tea outside, shall we?’ said Alex.

  In what Nicole could now recognise as Marwari, the dialect of Rajasthani spoken in Karangarh, he had a conversation with a third man who had appeared.

  Afterwards, he said to Nicole, ‘If you’d like to wash your hands, you’ll find an ablutions tent for your exclusive use in that direction. Mine is the other way.’

  While he waited for her to return from exploring the washing facilities, Alex wished he had arranged to spend the first few days of their marriage in the palace hotel on the lake at Udaipur where, although it was always busy during the tourist season, they would, in some ways, have had greater privacy.

  Much as he loved the desert, it was not the place he would have chosen to spend these first hours with Nicole. They would have to wait until after dinner and the servants had retired to the service tent in another part of the dunes before they would be really alone.

  The reason he had not arranged to go to Udaipur, perhaps the most romantic place in the whole of Rajasthan, was because he had been there before with Nuala. There were not many places in this part of India they hadn’t visited together. They had even camped in the desert, but not at this level of luxury. Their only attendant had been a drunken camel-driver who, as they travelled on foot, had followed behind with their gear. In the mornings they had woken drenched by the condensation from their own body heat during cold desert nights in sleeping bags.