“But I can’t use those machines.”
“You won’t have to. I’ve got good people but I need someone who I can trust to be in early, leave late and make sure everything is done.”
“What would I have to do?”
“Just keep tabs on what’s going on, do the wages at the end of the week, deliver work to clients, empty the bins, clean the loos, anything that’s necessary to allow all the others to do the jobs they well know how to do.”
“Just for a couple of weeks?”
“Well I shouldn’t be away longer than that. But if you wanted to carry on doing stuff there’s always something. Delivering work, stuffing envelopes. It’s not brilliantly interesting but it pays well.”
“It sounds better than supermarket checkout clerk.”
“Do you want to think about it?”
“Well I would have to travel quite a way.” I tried to think of the problems.
“We’d get you a car.” That would solve the problem of having to borrow Maureen’s.
“Really? That would be brilliant.”
“And you’d get a decent hourly rate. I’d have to do it by the hour. Is that OK?”
We were getting down to details as if I had already said ‘yes’.
“I’ll cover for as many hours as you like when you’re away on condition that, when you get back, I can work a few hours as and when.”
“That’d work. Sometimes we need loads of people all the time but when we’re quiet we wouldn’t need you.”
“So it would suit us both?”
“Sounds like it.”
But nothing turned out quite the way we expected in the weeks that followed.
Chapter Seventeen
Ten days into my stint holding the fort at her office I had a phone call from Linda in India. “Sorry, it’s a bit of a bad line but I thought I’d better let you know how it’s going.”
“What’s all that noise?”
“I’ll shut the window, it’s absolute mayhem outside, millions and millions of black and yellow taxis all hooting their horns and going nowhere.”
“Are you staying with the family?”
“No. They didn’t want to have anything to do with me. Ram has been very formal and very polite, he arranged this room at the Taj Hotel. It’s absolutely fantastic! It’s like stepping back 40 years to the days of the Raj with men in turbans everywhere. It’s really weird. I’ve got a lovely room overlooking the harbour. They built it the wrong way round you know. The gardens and swimming pool were supposed to face onto the harbour but they don’t. They face back into the teeming hot pale brown streets. Still my room should have looked out over them but it doesn’t it looks out over the teeming pale brown harbour instead!”
I laughed gently as I realised she was talking about these pointless things because she didn’t want to say what was really on her mind.
“It really is a very, very crowded city. It took ages to drive from the airport. It’s only about ten miles but it took over two hours and the millions and millions of people you see absolutely everywhere, walking in the road, squatting at the side of the road doing god knows what…”
“Well you know what!”
“Exactly! And the smell! You just wouldn’t believe it! It’s absolutely all-pervading. You leave the wonderful air-conditioning of the hotel to go outside and it hits you like you’ve walked into a very smelly oven, it’s completely overwhelming. The funniest thing is that when we arrived at the airport they fumigated us in case we were bringing anything into the country! Weird!”
“And Ram?” I had to ask.
“He met me at the airport and his driver brought us to the hotel where he waited while I checked in and then left me. He said he’d be back the next morning for coffee. I don’t think he had any idea what I felt like. I was tired out after the flight, I had no idea what to do in the hotel, whether it was safe to go out onto the streets alone or anything. So I stayed in the room and ordered room service. That was weird. They don’t just bring a tray and leave it balanced precariously on the bed as they do in England. Oh no! Three bearers bring in a table, fully laid, and a serving trolley and they serve you while you eat! I felt a little underdressed in my jeans and t-shirt but they didn’t seem to mind. The manager came up to see me and very carefully called me Mrs Kambli. I got the distinct feeling he knows the family and thinks I’m absolutely not worthy of the name.”
“Linda, you’ve been on the phone for ages. It must be costing a bomb. What did you want me to do?”
“Oh I just called to talk to someone sensible. Ram, or more probably his uncle Vijay, is picking up the tab for the hotel so I’ll stay on the phone as long as I can.”
Vijay? How common a name was that in India? Could David’s loose cannon be Ramesh’s uncle? Linda could not know how interested I had become in her conversation.
“Is it getting nasty then? I thought you both wanted to come to some amicable agreement.”
“Oh it’s fine really. I just don’t see why he should get away lightly. Anyway, the next morning, Valentine’s Day actually, the phone in my room rang and he said to meet him by the pool. He didn’t even want to come to my room and we’re still married for God’s sake. Anyway I had tried to be a bit more ‘memsahibish’ by wearing a skirt and headed off for the pool area. Every door was opened by a turbaned attendant, it made me hold my head up higher and my back straighter. Ram was sitting in a large wicker chair, and there were several other men with him. I hadn’t been expecting him to come mob-handed. They were his cousins I think. I as only introduced to one, Sandeep. They were there to make sure Ramesh didn’t negotiate any of the family fortune away.”
“I’m sure it wasn’t like that.” I wasn’t at all sure but it seemed the right thing to say.
“Well I told them I didn’t want any of his family’s money. All I wanted was the ability to put the last seven years behind me and start again.”
“That seems very generous of you.” I had to admire Linda’s independence, I didn’t think it was what I would have done in the circumstances.
“But that wasn’t what he wanted. He wanted the business! He argued that I couldn’t have bought Charles out without his financial backing and that he supported me through some of the bad times when the business wasn’t making any money so he wanted the business valued and me to pay him three quarters!”
“I don’t believe it. He can’t do that surely?”
“You can’t lend me any money can you?” Before I could answer she had continued swiftly “Only joking.”
“You talked him out of it?”
“I told him that I couldn’t possibly do that. If I did I would have to ask him for financial support. Either I get the business and don’t want anything from him or he gets the business and I get at least £1,500 a month maintenance.”
“Thatagirl!”
“Well then he nodded his head and his cousins, or whoever they were, disappeared. He got all chummy and pathetic, saying his family had told him to say that and he knew I wouldn’t wear it and not to worry. He didn’t want me to have to close the business and he was quite happy to sign the papers as long as I agreed not to have any claims on him or his family. We could probably be divorced before I left the country.”
“It’s a good thing you didn’t have any children, you know, he would have wanted them and it would have been a damned sight more complicated.”
“I know. There is that at least. Anyway.” She paused dramatically as if what was to follow was the most interesting part of the conversation. “Before he left he gave me a little peck on the cheek and said he had left his driver for me to use for the duration of my stay and that if I wanted anything I should just ask the hotel manager and to put everything on the bill.”
“So you’re taking him at his word.”
“Absolutely. And I’ll tell you why.” When she paused for breath I heard the phone crackle and thought perhaps the line had gone dead but after a few seconds I realised Linda was crying.
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“Are you OK?”
“I’m sorry I just find it very, very funny.” She was laughing.
“I thought you were crying.”
“No, just finding it all rather funny in a sick sort of way. When I got together with Ram I knew his family were reasonably well off, he was earning good money as an accountant and he seemed educated and, well, quite western in his ways. Well I didn’t know the half of it. I’ve spent a couple of days letting the driver take me to shopping areas and showing me the sites of Bombay. I’ve spent an afternoon at the Gymkhana Club watching ex-pats playing a very good game of cricket, all very colonial. I’ll tell you about that when I get back. I’ve seen all the sights. Balu, the driver, speaks excellent English and is a very good guide. We had got on famously and I think he felt rather sorry for me in a way. When I wanted to walk on the Maidan, a wonderful stretch of what would be green grass if they had had any rain, completely packed with millions of people playing cricket, surrounded by amazing colonial buildings and statues, he insisted on walking with me and giving me a detailed history of every building. Then he took me to the railway station. Wow! It was absolutely fantastic. I’ve got loads of photographs. Anyway. Yesterday I asked Balu where Kambli Sahib lived. You wouldn’t believe it! We parked by the iron gates and I peered in like a naughty schoolgirl. There were gardeners squatting on the lawn cutting the grass blade by blade with scissors! The house, sorry, ‘bungalow’ was three storeys tall, every storey had a veranda and it was gigantic. It was on the top of one of the hills, Malabar Hill, and the view must have been phenomenal across the bay. Then he took me to Juhu. It’s a beach area an hour or so outside the city, where the old airport used to be. The family has three houses there, all on the beach with swimming pools and what seemed like thousands of servants. Susannah, let me tell you, they are rich, with a capital R. Apparently the Kambli family live with their uncle and cousins. They have such a silly surname, it sounds more English than Indian, Thakersey.”
It was all I could do to stop myself interrupting Linda. I tried to keep listening while my mind took in what she was saying. Ramesh was Vijay’s nephew. I had not only found that Vijay was alive but had found a link with our family. Not perhaps the dangerous connection David had been concerned about, divorce was hardly the disaster it was for my parents 25 years earlier, but a connection nonetheless.
I concentrated back on what Linda had to say.
“Ram and his mother, she’s the one who we met at Old Trafford in 1976, well they live with her brother Vijay Thakersey who is the head of the family and his children, the oldest is Sandeep who is sort of taking over from his father as head of the family. Vijay lived in Europe for a long time and is the one who started the family business and rules everyone with a rod of iron.”
It was a few moments before I realised Linda had stopped talking. I had to say something. “And Ram never let on his family were rich?”
“Nope. Never. We got Christmas cards and birthday presents from his family but they never helped us when money was tight. I realised they were comfortable, possibly even well off, but mega-rich! No. I never realised. Balu told me they are one of the richest, most famous and most important families in India.”
“Surely he’s exaggerating.”
“He seemed quite proud of it. Apparently although they are basically accountants they are also investors.”
“They must have invested in something pretty worthwhile.”
“Films. They invested in films. Bollywood they call it. They make more films than Hollywood and Italy put together. Balu waxed lyrical about the actors and actresses who owed their fame and fortune to Sandeep Thakersey and his uncle, even though they are always behind the scenes they rake it in. You wouldn’t believe how popular films are over here. Millions go every night. There are cinemas everywhere, and enormous billboards. Films and cricket, they obsess millions upon millions of people.”
“Are you going to change your demands then? Tell Ramesh you want some money as well as his signature on a piece of paper.”
“No. That hasn’t changed. I just feel very sorry for him. All those years we had together and he didn’t let on. I think what really happened was he did fall in love with me, but his family wanted him to marry someone else, keep it all in the family.”
I wasn’t going to tell her that I believed the only reason he got involved with her was to be closer to our family, and his motive certainly wasn’t love.
“Perhaps if I’d had children they would have relented, but I think they put endless pressure on him for marrying an English woman and that overcame any feelings he may still have for me. He’s bowing in to his family. I don’t like that. It shows he’s a bit weak and I’m quite happy giving up on him and trying to find someone stronger. Balu is picking me up tomorrow and we’re going to the court.”
“Good luck.”
“What’s to be lucky about. Divorce is divorce isn’t it? We both want to be free of the marriage, free to start again. It’s a win win situation.”
“Phone me if you need anything.”
“Thanks for listening. I’m going down to the bar now, enjoy a bit of luxury while I can.”
In the traffic jam trying to get off the part of the M25 that was finished and head off down Reigate Hill to the A25 I tried to make sense of what was happening. Linda was an innocent pawn in whatever game it was the Kambli-Thakersey family was playing. Perhaps she was just too closely connected with our family, and too easy a target, for Vijay to ignore. She was putting a brave face on it but I wondered how I would cope; a foreign country, no friends, a strange hotel, thousands of miles from friends and home. She must be more upset than she was letting on. I had to admire her.
That evening Maureen was making conversation as the atmosphere between us was still tense. She had said one evening that there were so many things about me that reminded me of my mother and I don’t think she was being complimentary.
She asked whether I had heard from Linda.
“She’s fine. She’s finding out so much about Ramesh. He’s part of a large family and they are very, very rich. She has been shown round all their houses.” That wasn’t really a lie though I can understand that Maureen may have got an idea different from the truth. “She hasn’t met any of the family but she’s heard a lot about them.”
As I ate my supper I rambled on repeating much of what Linda had told me I noticed a change in Maureen.
“Are you alright?” I had to ask as she put her knife and fork down on her plate and stopped eating.
“This isn’t quite agreeing with me. I think I’ll retire. I’ve been feeling a little under the weather today it’s just catching up with me.” As I cleared away and did the washing up I had no reason to think that Maureen’s sudden indisposition was due to anything I might have said.
I was in the office early the next day, deciding to beat the road-work jams by leaving at 6am. The phone rang at 7.30.
“Oh Susannah, thank God you’re in. I really had to speak to someone before my flight.”
“You’re at the airport?”
“No, Balu is picking me up in half an hour.”
“That’s all a bit of a rush isn’t it?”
“It has to be. My passport won’t be valid after tomorrow.”
“What on earth are you talking about?”
“I am not, will not be, indeed never have been, Linda Kambli.”
I felt like an idiot repeating “Linda, what are you talking about?”
“The bastard, the utter conniving cheating bastard didn’t want a divorce…”
“But…”
“He hadn’t applied to the court for a divorce. He had applied for a ‘Civil Annulment Decree’.”
“An annulment? How can he do that?”
“The marriage is void, it never happened, because, and I quote ‘Miss Forster’s unwillingness or inability to accede to the petitioner’s right to a family. It was entirely Miss Forster’s decision, against all the wishes and arguments of th
e petitioner, not to have children’. They kept calling me ‘Miss Forster’, over and over as if I didn’t know what my name had been.”
“But…”
“Apparently it is absolutely the law. It means I have never been married. Of course we talked about having children, he always said it would be OK later, when the business ran itself. He never, never, said it was a problem.”
“It’s the family isn’t it? They wanted the annulment. If you’d been divorced you might always have some call on them or their money, you would be a loose end.”
“That’s exactly it! Now I’m nothing. I feel so… so…”
“And to them a loose end might become a loose cannon. Say you got divorced and found out, next week, that you were pregnant? You would claim he was the father…”
“I haven’t…”
“He would argue he wasn’t and it would all get very messy. This way you were never part of their family, never, in any way, possibly, their responsibility.”
“Oh shit shit shit.”
I thought perhaps being practical would help.
“What time does your plane get in? Do you want me to meet you?”
“I don’t know. No. Don’t worry about me. I’ll see you in the office on Monday. I’ve got to go. See you Monday.”
And the phone went dead.
I looked around the office at all the references to ‘Linda Kambli’. Linda hadn’t kept her maiden name when she had married Ram. She had, unusually for the 1980s, worked under her married name. I began to realise how difficult this was going to be. The company registration, bank accounts, everything would have to be changed. What would happen to her house, her mortgage?
And at every turn she would have to explain why. I couldn’t begin to think of all the implications for her.
So I called Ted, the only person I knew would help.
Chapter Eighteen
“Susannah, how lovely to hear from you after all this time.” He sounded genuinely pleased but I had to speak quickly to dispel any ideas he might have had that I was calling about the children.
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