Coming Home

by Fern Britton

  Tanvi looked very put out. ‘Don’t you want the work?’

  ‘I do.’

  ‘Are you too busy?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘Then I shall tell him we are coming over to measure up.’

  Sennen was nervous. ‘When?’

  ‘This afternoon. It’s perfect. Wednesday’s are his afternoon off.’

  Sennen was again alert, ‘Oh. I didn’t know teachers have half-days.’

  ‘Not normally. He’s a part-time teacher.’ Tanvi shook her head. ‘He also works with children who have suffered emotional trauma.’

  ‘Oh.’ Sennen was surprised. ‘Like a therapist?’

  ‘A very good one,’ Tanvi said with pride.

  ‘Yes, I would think so,’ said Sennen, her brain reordering and shifting all the mental files she had on him. She pictured him surrounded by smiling children, so grateful for his ministry. She smoothed her hair and smiled to herself.

  Tanvi’s hawk eyes caught her. ‘Does that make him attractive to you?’

  Sennen’s cheeks burned and she answered primly, ‘No. Not that he’s not handsome, I mean, but it’s an attractive quality in a man … to like children.’

  ‘Ah yes.’ Tanvi gave Sennen a knowing look. ‘He would make an excellent husband and father.’

  Sennen tutted. ‘Don’t start that again.’

  ‘Start what?’ Tanvi was all innocence.

  ‘You know.’

  They took a tuk-tuk to Kafir’s home, which was a little out of the city on the road to Mangaleshwar Temple. Sennen didn’t take tuk-tuks very often due to the cost and also because she enjoyed walking, but this trip with Tanvi was a treat. Sitting on the narrow back seat, pressed against her friend, with the breeze whipping her hair, she delighted in the exhilaration. The driver, she hoped highly skilled, sped through narrow gaps in the traffic that made her hold her breath and squeeze her eyes shut. He stopped for nothing, his thumb firmly pressed on the horn.

  Hanging from his rear-view mirror and across the sun visor he had secured bright pink tinsel and golden tassels. Sennen remembered the fairs in the green fields of Trevay, the spinning lights and gaily painted carousel horses. All she needed to complete the picture was to have the driver shout, ‘Hold on tight, here we go!’

  ‘I’m loving this,’ she shouted to Tanvi. ‘So much fun.’

  Tanvi patted Sennen’s knee. ‘You are too easily pleased.’

  At last they pulled up in a quiet street dotted with small bungalows.

  ‘This is Kafir’s. Ignore his décor. You can work on that later,’ said Tanvi climbing the two shallow steps to the verandah.

  Sennen had butterflies waking in her stomach. What was she doing? Would he think her a stalker?

  Tanvi knocked loudly, her tiny fist belying its power.

  Sennen was ready to turn and flee when Kafir opened the door.

  ‘Auntie.’ He opened his arms, his face wreathed in smiles and hugged her. ‘What a surprise.’ He looked over Tanvi’s shoulder and saw Sennen. She thought she saw his smile drop just for a split second, then he said, ‘And Sennen. Welcome to my humble home.’

  But it was humble only in so much as it was uncluttered. He led them through a small hall and into a simple sitting room with shuttered windows, two inviting rattan chairs, a table and a door opening onto a courtyard which was filled with pots of exotic fruit trees, flowering plants and herbs. In the sunshine there was a wicker lounger, with an open book lying beside it, and an empty glass.

  ‘We’ve interrupted you,’ said Sennen apologetically.

  ‘Not at all. Let me make you a drink. I have Coca Cola which Auntie does not approve of but I love. Would you like one?’

  ‘I would love one.’ She smiled.

  ‘And you, Auntie?’ he said.

  ‘Do you have 7 Up?’

  ‘I do.’

  ‘Then I shall have that.’

  ‘It is as bad as Coca Cola. Tut tut,’ he said, as a parent might to a toddler. ‘Are you sure?’

  ‘It is less trouble for you than to find teacups.’

  ‘That is very thoughtful.’ He looked at Sennen, bringing her in on the joke. ‘Make yourselves comfortable and I will bring the drinks and then you can tell me why you are here.’

  He was an easy host, making his guests feel comfortable and important. He asked after Sennen’s sore hip and elbow and Tanvi berated them both for not telling her about the fall and their meeting. He talked a little about his work and how few resources or desires there were to help children with their mental health. ‘The point is,’ he concluded, ‘none of us is perfect. We are all a little mad. And we all need a little help at times.’ He looked at Tanvi. ‘Except my auntie. She is perfect and is right about everything, isn’t that so, Auntie?’

  ‘I’m glad you see that.’ She nodded. ‘Which is why I have brought Sennen to your home. She will make you new curtains.’

  ‘I have shutters,’ he said.

  ‘They don’t keep the heat in when it’s cold.’

  ‘Hello, this is India,’ he said.

  ‘You need curtains.’ She folded her arms and stared at him.

  He looked at Sennen. ‘Apparently, I need curtains. What would you suggest?’

  ‘I like your shutters.’

  ‘He needs curtains,’ said Tanvi obstinately.

  ‘Well …’ Sennen thought, then, ‘A light muslin perhaps? To diffuse the light?’

  ‘Perfect,’ agreed Tanvi. ‘And what about chair covers?’

  ‘I don’t do upholstery.’

  ‘Cushions, then?’ Tanvi insisted.

  ‘Erm …’ Sennen glanced at Kafir for help. ‘Do you want cushions?’

  ‘No, but I would like a rug.’

  ‘I’m not an interior designer.’ Sennen was embarrassed. ‘I just make curtains.’

  ‘But your flat is so lovely,’ Tanvi interjected. ‘Isn’t it, Kafir.’

  ‘I remember it being very charming and welcoming.’ He thought back. ‘The curtains were good and your balcony very pretty.’

  ‘Thank you,’ said Sennen.

  ‘So, Saturday morning early you will go shopping for curtains and a rug,’ Tanvi declared. ‘I’m glad that is settled.’

  ‘Is it?’ laughed Kafir. ‘Sennen may have plans of her own.’

  Tanvi sniffed. ‘Believe me, she has nothing else to do.’

  ‘Excuse me,’ said Sennen, ‘I do have a life.’

  ‘So tell me?’ Tanvi challenged her. ‘What are you doing on Saturday?’

  ‘As it happens,’ Sennen said, ‘I am free this Saturday.’

  Tanvi looked Kafir in triumph. ‘You see? Auntie is always right.’

  At dawn the next day, Sennen watched as the sun crept over the wall of her balcony. She had lain in bed for hours, thinking about Kafir and how happy she was to be spending the morning with him. Of course, she told herself, he wouldn’t be thinking the same. He was doing what his auntie expected of him and he was too kind to refuse her. He was not interested in her romantically. Why would he be? A thirty-four-year-old spinster who could sew curtains was hardly a great catch. But he had smiled at her while he’d been teasing Tanvi and been so attentive when he had walked her home through the market that time.

  She threw back her sheet angrily. ‘I am just the person who is making him curtains he doesn’t want, and helping him choose a rug I know nothing about.’ She swung her legs onto the floor. ‘Now get up and shut up.’

  She went to the bathroom on the landing that she shared with Tanvi. She showered and washed her hair, pinching some of Tanvi’s excellent conditioning hair oil.

  Back in her room she sat on her balcony, with tea, bread and jam, brushing her hair dry until it gleamed. It was past her shoulder blades now with flecks of grey at the temples, just as her mother’s had been when she was a child. She stopped brushing and caught her breath. What were her parents doing right now? She looked over at her clock. They were about four and a half hours behind so it would be the middle of t
he night for them. They’d be in bed, slumbering peacefully next to each other. Then she thought of her children.

  Henry would be almost nineteen, now. Probably at university. Maybe studying art. As a toddler he had always loved painting with her and Adela. She wondered if she would recognise the loving little boy who was now a man.

  And Ella? She was seventeen, the age when Sennen had already run away. What had her parents told them about her? Had they heard all the little stories of her as young girl? Did they think of her fondly? She closed her eyes and sent fervent waves of love to them all. ‘Stay safe. Please stay safe.’

  She heard a dog bark below. There were her two little canine friends promenading with their puppies, teaching them where best to scavenge for food. She called to them and they looked up. She dropped several pieces of her breakfast bread down and watched as they tussled for them before sauntering off, tails up and curly.

  30

  Kafir arrived on time, with Tanvi standing across the landing, checking that the plan was going as she wished.

  ‘You both look very nice,’ she said approvingly.

  ‘Auntie, we are going to buy a rug, not go to a wedding,’ he told her firmly.

  Tanvi raised her eyebrows. ‘That is a funny analogy to use. Don’t you think, Sennen?’

  ‘I think you need to stop being naughty,’ Sennen said.

  Kafir laughed his deep laugh and held his arm out for her. ‘Take my arm and let us leave the naughty Auntie to meddle with someone else’s life.’

  Sennen tucked her arm through his and Tanvi watched them go and called after them, ‘Be sure to show me the rug when you get back!’

  The market on Saturday, even this early, was already packed. Sennen allowed herself to be guided by Kafir as he kept her arm close to his chest. It took longer than usual to get to the haberdashery quarter but when they did, the cool shade revived them.

  Mr Kuranam welcomed her warmly. ‘And who is this gentleman?’ he asked, studying Kafir from top to toe.

  ‘Namaste, Mr Kuranam,’ Kafir replied, very formal. ‘I am Miss Sennen’s client, Kafir Singh.’

  Mr Kuranam held a hand up in apology. ‘A client! I am so sorry to embarrass. Miss Sennen is a good friend. Please, come in and tell me what you are looking for.’

  Kafir chose quickly with Sennen’s guidance. A linen voile that would drape well. ‘Perfect choice, Mr Singh,’ smiled Mr Kuranam, clearly not convinced that the relationship was solely a business one. ‘I am certain Miss Sennen will make a good home for you.’

  Kafir hesitated slightly but thanked him.

  Sennen hurried them out of the shop. ‘I’m so sorry, Kafir.’

  ‘What for?’

  ‘Mr Kuranam’s presumptions.’

  Kafir shrugged, ‘It seems that a lot of people are making presumptions for us.’

  Sennen giggled nervously, kept her head down, and, taking his arm, allowed him again to guide her to the rug shop.

  They were invited in by a young man who offered them a seat before asking exactly what they were looking for. Kafir was stumped. ‘I don’t exactly know.’

  The young man turned to Sennen for help.

  ‘Well, let’s start with colour,’ she said. ‘What is your favourite colour, Kafir?’

  ‘Blue.’

  ‘Dark? Light? Aqua?’

  He thought. ‘Dark?’

  The young assistant sprang into action. ‘I have good dark-blue rugs. Let me show you.’

  Within minutes at least six beautiful rugs were unrolled in front of them.

  Kafir was lost. ‘Maybe they are too dark?’

  ‘Let me get lighter ones.’ The boy scampered off and returned with more rugs, this time in light blue. He unfurled them with pride before Kafir.

  Kafir inclined his head in a suggestion that he liked them. ‘What do you think, Sennen?’ he asked.

  ‘I think I prefer these, but with new drapes and your rattan furniture, maybe a cream or gold design would be nice?’

  He stroked his beard. ‘Maybe.’

  ‘I get them,’ said the eager young man.

  Eventually Kafir chose a dusty pink pattern with a rich cream-coloured background.

  ‘Very good choice,’ said the boy. ‘Taj Design. Agra knotted. Very nice rug.’

  He and Kafir haggled over the price and, when both were happy, the deal was struck. The rug would be delivered that afternoon.

  Kafir checked his watch. ‘Time for a coffee?’

  They walked to a small park where a café was set up in the shade of a grove of Banyan trees. Kafir ordered two coffees from the slender teenaged girl who was serving the tables.

  ‘I have enjoyed this morning. Thank you,’ Kafir said, stretching his legs out in the dust.

  ‘Me too,’ said Sennen, draping her shawl over her hair. ‘The rug is very beautiful.’

  They drank their coffee in comfortable silence, neither feeling the need to talk. Sennen watched the sparrows hopping under the tables, pecking for crumbs.

  ‘In Cornwall, where I grew up, we have lots of sparrows. My mother has a bird table outside the kitchen window. My father calls them Spadgers, I don’t know why.’

  ‘Do you know we have robins in India?’

  ‘Really? I didn’t think robins migrated.’

  ‘Not your robins. Ours are called Indian Robins but they don’t have red breasts. They are dark all over but quite tame.’

  ‘Poppa, my father, had a tame robin in our garden. He would come to my father and take crumbs of cheese from his hand.’

  ‘That’s nice. We had a tame tiger who would take steak from my father’s hand.’

  ‘Really?’

  ‘No. I am joking.’

  She laughed. ‘For a moment there …’

  ‘Tell me about your home,’ he asked.

  She described Trevay and its harbour, the fishing boats and the hard life of the fishermen. She told him about her days of sun and rain on the beach, and the childhood of paddling, then swimming and eventually graduating to surfing. She made him laugh, telling him about the terrible things she did at school and the punishments that she received. And, finally, she described her house, her parents and their work with the art students.

  ‘I would like to see Cornwall.’ Kafir said. ‘When I was in London, studying, there were students who talked about it, had holidays there, but we Sikhs get a little hydrophobic around the sea, or even the rain.’

  ‘Why?’

  He pointed at his head. ‘The turban is not waterproof.’

  She laughed. ‘Do you never swim?’

  ‘Yes, but maybe with something on that doesn’t mind getting wet.’

  ‘I never thought about that. But you take it off to sleep? And shower?’

  ‘Of course.’

  ‘I like your turban. It suits you.’

  He inclined his head self-deprecatingly. ‘Well, thank you. And may I say I have noticed you have very shiny hair?’

  She reached up and felt it. ‘I have something to confess. I sometimes pinch a little of Tanvi’s conditioning oil from the bathroom.’

  ‘I shall have to call the police immediately … or I can take you to the shop that sells all sorts of hair products. You can buy some for yourself and some for Auntie too.’

  When they got to the shop, Sennen was enchanted by the toiletries. She bought two new bars of sandalwood soap, some body moisturiser and the hair conditioner for herself and Tanvi. At the till the assistant carefully wrapped and tied each purchase and asked Sennen if she’d like to buy some cologne for her husband.

  Sennen flushed and was relieved that Kafir was on the other side of the shop. She whispered, ‘We are not married. He is my friend.’

  But the assistant was not to be put off. ‘Can you not buy a friend a small gift? I have very special gentlemen’s cologne on offer. See?’ She squirted a tester onto Sennen’s hand. ‘Smell.’

  Sennen put her nose to her hand and inhaled. It was lovely. The freshness of lime with a base of sandalwoo
d and musk. She bought it.

  The walk home was quite long but Sennen’s senses were alive to everything she saw and heard. The birds in the trees, the warmth of the sun, the sound and feel of Kafir walking next to her.

  Back at her house, Tanvi’s door flew open as they reached the top of the stairs. ‘Successful shopping?’

  ‘Very,’ smiled Kafir. ‘Have you been waiting to catch us?’

  Tanvi was all innocence. ‘Not at all, but I was thinking you might be hungry?’

  ‘Not at all,’ said Sennen as Kafir said, simultaneously, ‘Starving.’

  That was all the encouragement Tanvi needed to produce plates of tasty food with fresh fruit juice.

  Eventually, Kafir said he had to leave or he would miss the delivery of the rug. Taking their leave of Tanvi, he walked Sennen across the landing to her door. ‘Thank you.’

  ‘I haven’t done anything.’

  ‘But you will make my beautiful curtains and you have given me a happy day.’

  ‘You have given me a happy day too.’ She rummaged in her bag. ‘I have a small, very small, gift for you.’ She handed him the wrapped bottle of cologne. ‘I hope you like it.’

  ‘May I open it now?’

  ‘Yes.’

  His slender brown fingers with their well-shaped nails undid the string and unfolded the paper. He took the bottle out and read the label. ‘But this is too nice.’

  ‘Smell it. If you don’t like it I won’t be upset.’

  He twisted the top open and put his nose to the glass. ‘It’s very nice.’

  ‘Really? It was the woman in the shop; it was on offer and it might be like loo cleaner …’

  He put his hand to her cheek. ‘Stop talking. It is beautiful and it is kind of you.’

  He looked into her eyes and she felt his gaze deep inside her. She closed her eyes and turned her cheek further into his hand.

  ‘Now I must go.’ He dropped his hand.

  ‘Of course. The rug.’

  ‘Well, goodbye – and thank you.’ He made a small bow then turned and walked down the stairs.

  She stood rooted to the floor. The skin of her cheek that he had so gently held felt cool. She ran her fingers over it with happiness and hope.

  The following morning Tanvi knocked on her door. ‘I have had a phone call from Kafir. He wants us both to go to see his new rug and he will be cooking us lunch. I have said yes, so hurry. We will get a tuk-tuk in half an hour.’