‘Haanh,’ he barked, sitting up with the phone held to his ear. ‘Arrey, abhi nahin, yaar…’ With another muttered curse, he got up and started doing up his buttons. ‘Shit, they are coming back,’ he said to Sonya before explaining, ‘Gopal and Estella. We should get up …’ Having got to his feet, he held his hands out to Sonya to pull her up. Briefly, Keshav held her, kissing her on the neck before releasing her so she could straighten her clothes and hair too.
They scrambled around, pulling on their shoes and straightening the sheets and Sonya dashed out to the toilet in the nick of time, hearing the sounds of Gopal’s and Estella’s voices entering the house just as she nipped across the courtyard, clutching her bag to her chest.
When she returned, clothes straightened and hair neatly brushed, the others were sitting in the minuscule living room. Gopal was carrying a paper bag covered in oil stains and Keshav was wolfing down something that looked like a pasty.
‘Have one samosa,’ Gopal said, holding the bag out to Sonya.
She shook her head. ‘Thanks, Gopal, but I think I’ll skip it. Feeling a little queasy …’
‘You alright, hon?’ Estella asked, looking concerned.
Sonya waved her away without quite meeting her eyes. Of course, Estella must have been wondering if she and Keshav had just had sex and looked as though she was mentally preparing a lecture about something deadly dull but ‘really, really important’, like safe sex. Sonya wondered if she should put her out of her misery by telling her of how tame the evening had in fact been, but that wouldn’t be possible until they were alone.
Finishing his samosa, Keshav wiped his hands on the back of his jeans and said, ‘We should go and get something proper to eat. You know, proper food. I told Didi you were not reaching back home for dinner and she made me promise I would take you for a good dinner.’
‘Ooo, fabby!’ Estella said. ‘Those ice creams have long disappeared, seeing how far we walked. Where should we go?’
‘Kake di hatti?’ Keshav consulted Gopal with his eyebrows raised. Sonya watched him as the pair discussed the matter briefly in Hindi. Despite the hasty neatening up, Keshav’s hair was still all tousled and mussed up. Sonya felt strangely tender looking at him and, in order to distract herself, she turned to Estella. ‘Did you have a good time?’ she asked.
Estella nodded, ‘India Gate was terrific,’ she said. ‘Something like the Arc de Triomphe, a massive arch with lots of radial roads leading off it. Proper boulevards, just like you see in Paris, but nicer, because there’s lots of green lawns and people strolling about buying balloons and stuff from dozens of quaintsy little ice-cream carts. I’ve never seen such minuscule ice lollies – I had two of course! You should have come,’ she said pointedly.
Before Sonya could answer the boys appeared to have made a decision about where to eat – they were getting up and Keshav was going in search of the car keys.
‘Spend a penny,’ Estella said, making for the toilet.
‘Turn the light on before you go in,’ Sonya warned, adding, ‘and be prepared to squat!’
Sonya picked up her bag and wandered out of the house, searching for her phone. A call to the UK would probably cost a bomb, but she couldn’t put off calling her parents any more. She and Estella had made brief calls to their respective parents from the Mahajan household, using an international calling card that Mr Mahajan had produced. But, knowing her parents, Sonya was sure they would already be worried sick for not having heard from her for over twenty-four hours now.
Outside the night was cool and there was the distant thump of music coming from the main house. Through the hedge, Sonya could discern a few party guests milling about on a lawn. It looked like the party was only just starting but turbaned waiters were already working the small crowd with trays of colourful drinks. The smell of barbecuing meat wafted across to where she stood in the dark, phone held to her ear as it rang distantly.
‘Dad!’ Sonya said, melting at the sound of her father’s dear, familiar ‘Hallo’; so comforting in this alien setting.
‘Darling!’ she heard him exclaim before he went off the phone to yell, ‘Laura! Laura, it’s Sonya!’ Then back to the phone, ‘How are you, darling? And where are you now?’
‘Still in Delhi,’ Sonya laughed, imagining her parents jostling each other to hear her speak, ‘And, yes, I’m absolutely fine.’
She heard her mother’s voice now. ‘Oh, darling, it’s wonderful to hear your voice. You can’t imagine what it’s like here without you.’
‘Lovely and peaceful, I’d have thought!’ Sonya tried to joke before saying, ‘Oh, I miss you terribly too, Mum. Especially ’cos I met the Bitch here today.’
‘Who? Sorry, darling, your voice isn’t very clear …’
Sonya decided not to repeat the epithet as, much as her mother had not wanted her to go in search of Neha, she would probably disapprove even more of Sonya using bad language. ‘You know – Neha Chaturvedi. The woman who gave me away,’ she said instead.
There was a moment’s silence on the line before Sonya heard her father’s voice. She could tell how hard he was working at keeping his tone calm. ‘Face to face? Goodness … what was it like? What’s she like?’ he asked.
‘Young!’ Sonya said, trying to keep it light. Then she added, ‘I don’t think she was too keen to meet me but I insisted.’
‘Did you talk for long?’ Richard asked.
‘Oh, all of five minutes,’ Sonya said with a wry laugh.
‘Five minutes! Was that it? Will you be seeing her again?’ Laura asked.
‘I guess,’ Sonya said noncommitally. She didn’t know the answer to that question herself at this point in time, so she wasn’t being untruthful. Then, to change the subject, she said. ‘On the plus side, Stel and I have made some really terrific friends here. The family we’re staying with is just lovely and they’re showing us a great time.’
‘Oh, that’s good,’ Richard said before asking, ‘Is this call costing you a lot, honey?’
‘Typical, Dad!’ Sonya laughed. ‘Yeah, it’s probably costing me a bomb but do we really want to rack up a bigger bill talking about it?’ She spotted Keshav emerge from the house in search of her. ‘Having said that, though, I think I gotta go. There’s a bunch of people waiting to take us out to dinner so I’m off now. Hey Mum, Dad, would you call Estella’s folks and tell them too that we’re fine and chipper and having a great time? Thanks a mill, love you both, give each other a big hug from me, byeeeee …’ and, with that, Sonya hung up.
‘My parents,’ she explained to Keshav but he didn’t seem that interested, coming up to her for another kiss. Sonya relented willingly, moulding her body against his and feeling his groin harden instantly. They drew apart as the other two emerged from the house and walked towards them.
‘Right, where are we off to then?’ Estella asked looking ominously at Sonya.
‘The best eating joint in Delhi!’ Keshav announced grandly, leading the way to the car. Sonya walked ahead with Keshav, reluctant to discuss her relationship with Keshav right here and now with Estella.
The music from the party was louder now and Sonya could see people in glittering clothes emerge from a procession of cars that was pulling up at the main gate. They were walking down the illuminated drive in pairs and groups and their laughter rose in the air to waft towards them.
‘It looks like quite some party,’ Sonya observed, getting into the front seat next to Keshav.
‘When people have too much black money, they have to spend it so they have parties for their other friends who also have too much money. It goes on like that over here,’ he said. His voice was rough as he struggled to start up the ignition, so Sonya couldn’t tell if he was joking. The car soon coughed to life and Keshav started to reverse it. He turned it round and drove, not down the main drive, which was now busy with the party guests, instead taking a small pathway down the back of the house towards a wooden gate that led into a service lane.
They made
their way through Connaught Place, which Sonya now recognized, and parked near a restaurant on its outer edges. A pink neon sign was advertising an unpronounceable name above a doorway that was half covered by construction debris and rubble. It was clearly a down-at-heel greasy spoon café but a blast of noise and fragrance greeted them as they walked into a space that was heaving with people and food. It was, as Keshav had warned, a truckers’ stop, peopled mostly by men with unshaven chins and eyes reddened by either alcohol or lack of sleep. Large steel vessels containing curries bubbled away at the front of the shop while, from within, enormous soft naans and rotis were emerging in large cane baskets. Sonya looked at Estella, whose eyes were also shining with the excitement of being somewhere so authentic and gritty. It was truly thrilling to be experiencing a Delhi they were very unlikely to have seen as tourists on the normal boring trail of forts and monuments.
Keshav was apparently a regular patron of this place, seeing the familiar back-slapping manner with which he was greeted by the waiters, as they eyed-up both Sonya and Estella appreciatively. They were ushered like VIPs to a table at the back of the restaurant and Keshav rattled off a series of Hindi names without even glancing at the menu that was written on a notice board in plastic letters. Even Gopal appeared content to let his friend handle the order and, in minutes, all manner of exotic dishes that would never have been seen on the menu of the Shalimar Tandoori back in Orpington started arriving at their table: brain curry and lamb’s trotters and even bull’s testicles! They fell upon the food, Sonya suddenly realizing how ravenous she was. Keshav insisted on serving them all and, at one point, even fed Sonya with his fingers, scooping up some curry with a wedge of naan to put it into her mouth with utmost tenderness. Sonya thought she was ready to burst with love for him.
It was close-on midnight when the meal finished and they piled back into the car, Gopal and Estella taking the back seat again while Sonya sat up close to Keshav as he drove, her hand resting on his thigh. Keshav dropped Gopal back at the bottom of his road before driving both girls back to the Mahajans’ South Delhi household. It was a half-hour drive and Estella had fallen asleep shortly after getting into the car. Sonya though was watching Delhi’s streets slowly go to sleep, wishing the night would never end. She could happily drive on through this starlit, magical city, sitting like this next to Keshav, her stomach humming happily with the most delicious meal she had ever had. But, alas, before she knew it, their car was pulling up outside the Mahajan gate. Tempted as she was to ask Keshav to take her right back – to his house, or Gopal’s, anywhere that they could be alone together for another little while – Sonya reluctantly got out of the car. Keshav disembarked with them. He kissed Estella on the cheek and then took Sonya in his arms for another lingering kiss while Estella tactfully disappeared down the garden path in the direction of their room.
‘Come to Select City Mall tomorrow morning to meet me,’ Keshav said gruffly, pulling away and cupping his hands over Sonya’s face. ‘Ask Didi where it is and she will arrange transport. Come alone, okay? I want to spend time with you alone, not like this in a group,’ he whispered. Sonya nodded before kissing Keshav tenderly on his lower lip. He held her close and she felt her nascent love for him bubbling up from the very bottom of her stomach. Then, reluctantly, he pulled away. ‘Go inside,’ he said, ‘I will wait here until you are inside and I can see that you have closed your door.’
Walking on clouds Sonya ran towards the small spiral stairway before turning to wave goodbye to Keshav one last time. She was taken aback when Estella suddenly materialised at the top of the stairs. ‘God, you scared me there, Stel. All okay? You were out like a light in the car.’
‘I’m fine, thanks. More to the point, are you okay?’ Estella paused briefly before setting off again, ‘Look Sonya, I don’t mean to be a damp squib but are you sure you know what you’re doing? You know I like Keshav, and he’s been great showing us round, but we haven’t known him that long. I mean, did you actually sleep with him when Gopal and I went off?’
‘No, of course I didn’t! What do you take me for?’ Sonya said defensively.
Estella looked dubious. ‘I’m just worried, is all. Please just promise me you’ll be careful.’ Estella seemed to be holding back saying any more and for that Sonya was thankful.
‘Of course I will, darling. Come on, let’s hit the sack, I’m exhausted,’ Sonya replied before rushing past her friend into the room.
Chapter Thirty
Sharat shot a look at Neha sitting next to him in the car. Jasmeet’s birthday celebration had segued from lunch into tea and all that food and conversation had quite exhausted both of them. Neha was sunk in silence, looking out of the window at the remnants of the wholesale flower market at Andheria Mor as the car languished at a light. The driver had expertly negotiated the evening traffic from Gurgaon and they were over halfway home. Though never an overly chatty person, Neha had been unusually quiet on the journey back from Jasmeet’s party. Sharat knew her well enough to realize that something was bothering her. Something, in fact, had been bothering her since their own party ten days ago, which is why he had encouraged her to go off to Ananda. The place was usually very effective in dispelling Neha’s occasional dark moods but this time it did not seem to have worked. She had come back from the spa apparently as tightly wound up as she had been on her departure, although she, of course, would have been astonished had Sharat mentioned it. Neha made every effort to do what she thought was a good job at concealing her feelings. It might work with other people, Sharat thought, but not with him. One did not stay married to the same person for fifteen years without getting to recognize their every change of mood.
He reached out over the car seat to pick up Neha’s hand that was lying limp on the seat between them. Startled, she looked at him, her eyes large in her face. ‘What’s up?’ he asked gently. ‘You’re miles away.’
She smiled and shook her head. ‘Just been suffering a headache all day.’
‘Oh dear, bad one? Migraine?’
‘Maybe … I would have cancelled going for lunch if it had not been Jasmeet’s anniversary.’
Sharat grinned, ‘No one ever says no to old Jasmeet if they are in their right mind.’
Neha smiled in agreement. ‘Even back in school, she was such a bossy little thing we were all really petrified of her.’
‘On the other hand, you’ve stayed in touch with her since you were both six. So she can’t be too unbearable. Unless you like being bossed around!’
‘Hmm, that must make you a bossy husband, seeing how long I’ve stayed with you,’ Neha remarked, laughing at the very idea because she knew, like everyone else, what a genial person Sharat always was.
Neha’s phone rang and, quite suddenly, the smile was wiped off her face. She stared at Sharat with a stricken expression on her face as the ringing went on before she hastily scrambled to pick up her handbag which was lying at her feet. She pulled the phone out of its case and, with barely a glance at its screen, she turned it off.
‘What did you do that for?’ Sharat asked, surprised at Neha’s irrational act.
‘Oh nothing … I’ve been getting some crank calls lately.’
‘Crank calls?’
‘No, I don’t mean crank calls exactly but, you know, those annoying sales calls. They are like stalkers, those telesales people. I’ve told them to take my number off their list but they just keep calling and calling. I have a good mind to report the company to someone.’
‘What company is it?’
Neha gave Sharat a blank look and said, ‘Oh, I don’t know, some stupid company. Something to do with telephones … Telstar, I think. No, that’s an air-conditioning company, isn’t it. Maybe Telcom?’
Neha stopped her frantic gabbling and Sharat, rather than continuing to stare at her open-mouthed, turned his head to look out of the window. He ought not to get suspicious without good reason. But how could one help wondering? Neha was behaving very strangely and, although Sharat fel
t very uneasy, he did not want to ask her the reason right away. He suddenly recalled that story he had heard recently of his old classmate, Anup, whose wife had apparently run off with her physical trainer. The classmates he had been gossiping with at their school reunion had all laughed at the utter triteness of the story but Sharat had not been able to help feeling sorry for the chap he remembered as being a bumbling, well-meaning sort …
They travelled on through the Delhi traffic, sitting in the back seat of their elegant Mercedes, but now Sharat too was silent, his earlier good mood suddenly dispelled.
When they reached home, Neha said she was going to have a nap. Sharat watched her going upstairs before walking down the corridor to the study. Suddenly, he was anxious all over again, experiencing a strange deep thudding in his chest that he had not encountered in years. Certainly not since the time he and Neha were trying for children and kept failing, month after month …
Sharat sat on an armchair in the study and tried leafing through the papers. But he had read the whole sheaf cover-to-cover this morning and was quickly bored by them. He ran his eye along the vast collection of books that lined the walls but knew he lacked the concentration to read a book right now. Instead, he stretched out on the sofa and, perhaps due to the cheese-laden lasagna he had eaten at lunch, he soon drifted off.
In less than fifteen minutes, Sharat came awake again with a jolt. He lay looking blearily at the ceiling, trying to find his bearings and wondering whether he had perhaps had a bad dream. Then he slowly recalled the reason for which he was feeling a little sick in the stomach … It was so uncharacteristic of Neha to lie to him. And, clearly, she had been lying to him, babbling on about crank calls as a reason for not answering the telephone. Perhaps he ought to ask her directly if there was some problem. Crank calls. A likely story!
Sharat took the stairs to the first floor, his bare feet soundless on the marble tiles. The bedroom door was ajar and he walked straight in. Neha was fast asleep on their bed, her forehead creased into an anxious frown, possibly due to the headache she had mentioned earlier. She must have fallen straight into bed as she was still in the same clothes she had worn to Jasmeet’s lunch. Even the handbag she had carried was lying next to her on the bed. Sharat saw Neha’s phone peeping out from the rim of the bag and, giving in to sudden impulse, he picked it up and took it out of the room. He flicked it open and, in the bright sunshine of the bathroom, he swiftly scrolled through the list of calls she had recently received. Almost all the numbers came up with familiar names against them – ‘Mummy’, ‘Ma’, ‘Papa’, ‘Jasmeet’ and, of course, ‘Sharat’ many times over. But she had been called twice from a landline at two-thirty pm, while they had been at lunch in the hotel, and then by an unfamiliar mobile number at four-twelve, which was probably the call she had received while they were in the car. Still being uncharacteristically nosy, Sharat hit the callback button on the landline but, even after twenty rings, there was no reply. Then he dialled the mobile number that had called when they were in the car. He held his breath again as the phone started to ring. This time, after a few seconds, it was answered by a male voice. ‘Hello? Hello?’ the voice said, adding, ‘Hello, is that you, Neha?’
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