A Scandalous Secret

by Jaishree Misra

  Sonya, now weeping in earnest, spoke through a wad of tissues, ‘But who’d have thought that Keshav … he even mentioned other girls, saying I was no better than them. Oh Stel, am I just a trollop? And such a bad judge of character?’

  ‘Come on, hon, don’t be hard on yourself, I thought he was a right dish when I first got a sight of him … I might even have ended up getting my knickers off for him, for heaven’s sake. At least you stopped short of that!’

  But Estella’s clumsy attempt at both kindness and lightening the mood had no effect as Sonya continued to agonize. ‘You didn’t see the expression on his face, Stel. He was suddenly so nasty, so unlike the friendly and genial guy he’d been so far … I mean he seemed so gentle earlier and so … so … protective…’

  ‘Well, he was obviously better at dissembling than we thought. Actually, if he does mean business, I can’t help feeling a little sorry for Neha, suddenly,’ Estella said.

  Sonya looked at her friend. ‘You know, I’ve been thinking the exact same thing,’ she said slowly. It was a difficult admission to make and Sonya hoped Estella would understand. ‘I know I started off wanting Neha to suffer, but I don’t feel that way now, having got it all off my chest. If Keshav does take matters into his hands, then she’s a sitting duck, isn’t she? And the fact that he has all this information on her is … well, it’s purely my fault, isn’t it?’

  Estella held Sonya’s gaze. ‘He won’t get away with it. Blackmail’s a crime and I’ll be damned if I’m going to sit around and let him wreck someone else’s life.’

  ‘What do we do?’ Sonya asked.

  ‘I think we need to call Neha again,’ Estella replied. Her voice was firm. ‘Call her again and ask her to meet you so you can explain what’s happened. I’ll come with you, if you like. It’s gotta be done before we leave Delhi.’

  Chapter Thirty-Two

  In the dentist’s waiting room, Neha sat surrounded by dwarf palms, awaiting her monthly appointment as she had been suffering with her fillings of late. Her nerves had been taut as stretched wires since receiving the blackmailer’s phone call at Jasmeet’s lunch the previous day. She already thought of him as a blackmailer because it seemed sensible to assume that some kind of extortion was the man’s intention, even though he had not specified any demands, nor made any further contact yet. Neha was also fairly certain that the blackmailer had called with Sonya’s express permission. How else would he have known about Neha’s circumstances, or got her number? Her own investigations had come to nothing as, when she had made a tentative attempt to call back, someone had answered the phone and said it was a public telephone booth near Khan Market. Nevertheless, Neha had taken the precaution of making her mobile phone a constant companion ever since, even taking it with her to the bathroom for fear that Sharat would answer it if she left it lying around. She had astonished herself at the calm manner in which she was dealing with this new crisis. Perhaps it was because she now had something definite to deal with, rather than coping with some obscure idea of what might or might not emerge from Sonya’s arrival in India. She could legitimately stop feeling guilty about not having rushed to make contact with her on first receiving her letter, although her sadness felt amplified in all sorts of inexplicable ways.

  Neha took a deep breath, trying to calm the fluttering in her chest. She was only kidding herself by imagining that the phone call hadn’t made the situation worse. At first nothing had seemed more worrying than telling Sharat about the baby she had given away but, with this new development, she would now have to tell him that her daughter had grown into a blackmailer too! Even though Neha knew she had no right to expect good treatment, somehow it pained her terribly to think of what Sonya had done. In the end, she had only been interested in money …

  Neha jumped as she felt her mobile phone start to buzz. She looked at the number that was flashing silently and saw that it was different from the landline that had been used by Sonya’s blackmailer friend. This was the second call she had received from an unfamiliar mobile number and she supposed that that was what blackmailers did: use different phones all the time so that they could not be traced. After a moment’s hesitation, Neha decided to answer the call. At least she was by herself, as there was no one else in Dr Kothari’s plush waiting room today.

  ‘Hello?’ she said, her heart beating loudly in her ears.

  ‘Hello.’ It was Sonya’s voice. Neha recognized it with no trouble at all.

  ‘What do you want now?’ Neha asked after a short pause, her voice cold.

  There was a moment’s hesitation before Sonya replied. ‘Look, I’m sorry I shouted at you in the park,’ she said in a voice much softer than before. ‘But something … something urgent has come up.’

  ‘Why don’t you just tell me how much you want?’ Neha asked abruptly, aware of how rough and jagged her voice sounded.

  ‘Pardon?’

  ‘You heard me,’ Neha spoke more slowly, enunciating every word, ‘How much are you and your friend after?’

  ‘I … I don’t understand,’ Sonya stuttered. ‘What do you mean “after”? I’m … we’re not after anything.’ Now, pricked, her voice turned sharp in response. ‘Are you saying you wish to buy my silence?’

  ‘Correct me if I’m wrong but that’s your wish, not mine, isn’t it? Going by that phone call yesterday …’

  Neha heard Sonya take a deep breath. ‘That wasn’t me. I haven’t made any phone calls to you since meeting you in the park yesterday. Look, I think there’s been a terrible mix-up and perhaps we need to talk. Face to face. There’s something important you need to know.’

  Neha hesitated for a split second. Could she believe Sonya when she said she had nothing to do with the call she had received yesterday afternoon? And, if that was true, then who was the man on the phone who knew all about their relationship? And why did she want to meet her again? Despite her confused thoughts, Neha instinctively felt that Sonya was telling her the truth – but how could one be sure of anything? Whatever the case, she ought to meet Sonya as soon as possible to get to the bottom of this. Perhaps it could all be sorted out without Sharat needing to know. ‘Come to the house this evening,’ Neha said, adding as she sensed Sonya’s hesitation, ‘it’s fine. My husband’s gone this morning to Mumbai for a couple of days so it’s just me.’

  ‘Okay. I’ll bring Estella, my friend, if you don’t mind.’

  ‘Yes, that’s fine. I’ll tell the guard to expect the two of you at six o’clock this evening.’

  Neha shot a look at Dr Kothari’s receptionist but the girl was busy behind her steel and glass counter and did not seem to have heard the exchange at all.

  At six, Neha stood on the veranda of her house, watching the evening shadows lengthen slowly in the garden. It was hard to explain but, in spite of the added complications, Neha felt far more serene than the last time she had met Sonya. Ready to face whatever was going to come at her on this occasion. Absently, she plucked at the button rose creeper that hung low on one side of the veranda, removing a few dead heads that had formed. Except for a few stray flowers, the creeper was profuse with unopened buds that were readying themselves for the winter. It was coming up to the time of year that Neha usually loved: the three months between Diwali and Christmas, when her garden gradually unfurled and bloomed, and much more time was spent outdoors than the summer months allowed. She gazed at the vast expanse of clean green lawn, remembering how she used to look at it longingly in the early years of her marriage to Sharat, imagining it littered with tricycles and trampolines …

  Hearing voices at the gate, she looked out and saw Sonya with the girl who had dragged her away in the park. Satisfied with how calm she felt, Neha walked to the top of the steps where she awaited the two girls as they came down the drive. Neither girl was smiling but Neha sensed there was no hostility this time. Once again, Neha experienced a sharp feeling of déjà vu as she watched Sonya’s tall figure walk gracefully towards her. It was like watching herself walk through t
ime.

  ‘Hello,’ Neha said, coming down the stairs and reaching out a hand first to the bigger girl who took it and shook it firmly.

  ‘I’m Estella. Thanks for allowing me to come with Sonya,’ the girl said. Her direct manner and plummy voice reminded Neha faintly of her old classmate Clare, back at Oxford, and perhaps that was cause enough to instantly warm to her.

  Then Neha turned to Sonya and stretched a hand in her direction, experiencing that same mix of feelings as when she had first laid eyes on her. Sonya took her hand and their fingers brushed briefly together before they were withdrawn. Quelling her turmoil, Neha turned away. ‘Come, let’s go in,’ she said.

  She led the way indoors through the main hallway. As they entered her vast living room, Neha saw both girls cast awestruck looks around. She wished instantly that she had taken them down the hall to the breakfast room instead, which was much smaller and cosier. Her living room had once been described in an interiors magazine as ‘an immense art gallery, every wall and corner graced with expensive paintings and objets d’art’ – the room was a commanding one, with its three separate seating areas and an enormous grand piano set to one side that no one ever used except for when musicians were hired at their parties. Neha hoped the room would not make the girls uneasy. She had only thought to come in here because it offered the most privacy. It was so important that they should feel able to talk freely.

  ‘Can I get you some tea?’ she asked. Both girls nodded and so Neha pressed a button on the intercom to call Ram Singh in the kitchen. Then she turned to the pair, both of whom wore timid expressions on their faces today, quite unlike the girls she had met in the park. It was best to take charge and be as direct as was permissible. She tried to keep her voice subdued and gentle. ‘Do you want to start by telling me about the misunderstanding that you referred to earlier on the phone, Sonya?’

  Sonya shot a look at Estella who nodded. Then Sonya spoke, her voice low-pitched, nervous. She made only occasional eye contact with Neha, keeping her gaze mostly on the silver rings that she was continually twisting around on her fingers. ‘Soon after coming here, to India, I … we met a boy called Keshav who was helping us with our travels and sightseeing around Delhi. He seemed awfully nice and I’m afraid I got close enough to him to tell him why I was in India …’

  ‘He was the boy who was in the park with you on Sunday?’ Neha queried.

  Sonya nodded. ‘We had come here earlier with him too, to the gates of the house, that is …’

  ‘Which is how he knows where you live,’ Estella cut in.

  ‘So?’ Neha asked, still faintly puzzled by the piecemeal information.

  ‘Well, unfortunately he now knows a lot about you …’ Estella said.

  ‘And he’s subsequently fallen out with me,’ Sonya said swiftly, reddening as she looked down at her trainers.

  ‘Why has he fallen out with you? Neha asked.

  Sonya looked up and met her gaze, ‘Because he thinks I led him up the garden path and he’s now disillusioned and angry …’

  ‘That’s nonsense. Sonya isn’t expressing this very well, I’m afraid,’ Estella said, turning to Neha to make her explanation. She spoke swiftly. ‘We misjudged Keshav. I’m afraid we’re neither of us the best judges of character. We thought Keshav was our friend and so we told him all about you and your connection with Sonya. But he turned out to be an opportunist and, when he realized that Sonya was not going to pave an easy path to England for him, he turned nasty. And now … now he’s threatening to blackmail you. He claims he’s doing it to get back at us but I would wager it’s just money he’s after.’

  Neha sat back against her silk cushions. ‘So that call I got was from him. You had nothing to do with it?’ she asked Sonya.

  ‘Of course I had nothing to do with it!’ Sonya said hotly. ‘What do you take me for? Sure, I was upset and came here to India looking for an explanation from you but your money means nothing to me. Let’s get that clear.’

  Neha sat in silence for another few seconds as all sorts of emotions coursed through her. Finally she said, ‘Thank you for coming to warn me about Keshav. I shall have to think of the best way to deal with him.’ Then she took a deep breath and, turning to look Sonya straight in the face, saying gently, ‘I never gave you that explanation, did I? The one that you came to India for …’

  At that moment, Ram Singh appeared at the swing doors that led to the dining room. ‘Memsahib, chai,’ he said, waving expansively in the direction of the dining room.

  Neha nodded at him and smiled apologetically at the girls. ‘It looks like he’s serving high tea in the dining room. I’d asked for a simple tea service on a trolley but Ram Singh has a mind of his own and probably thinks you are weary travellers in need of sustenance and fattening up.’

  Estella grinned. ‘Well, if there’s one thing I definitely don’t need it’s fattening up! But high tea sounds great. Sonya and I have eaten nothing since breakfast today as we were worrying ourselves sick over how we would break this news to you.’

  Neha felt tremendously touched. ‘It’s very sweet of you to have been worrying,’ she said, smiling at Estella, ‘and don’t worry, we’ll think of something. From what you’re saying this is not your fault at all. Unfortunately in India there are a number of characters like Keshav, out for all they can get.’ Then she got up to lead the way to the dining room, adding, ‘In fact, I now feel so guilty for assuming that you were behind that phone call.’

  ‘Do you mind if I ask how many times Keshav has called?’ Estella asked, following Sonya and Neha out of the room.

  ‘Just once. Yesterday. But I’m as certain as anything that he’ll call again. He certainly sounded like he meant business,’ Neha replied, entering the dining room. She waved them to an enormous table gleaming with polish and ringed by twelve chairs. On the table was a large spread: cucumber sandwiches and carrot cake and what looked like a semolina pudding. ‘Come, sit. And help yourselves,’ Neha said. ‘In fact, if you’re really hungry, I can ask Ram Singh to make something more substantial.’

  ‘Oh no, please!’ Estella said. She shot a look at Sonya and said. ‘Why don’t I help myself to something and clear off to the veranda. I think you need some space.’

  Neha protested. ‘You’ll be much too uncomfortable on the veranda; it’s the season of flies. But I could ask Ram Singh to take the tea trolley to the study? Lots of magazines and books there to keep you amused.’

  Once Estella had been dispatched to the study with her tea, Neha sat down at the dining table, taking the chair directly across from Sonya’s. She poured from the tea pot into two cups and, when Sonya nodded, added milk from a jug. Watching Sonya help herself to two cubes of sugar and, keeping her eyes on the teaspoon stirring the tea, Neha started to speak. It was amazing how tranquil she suddenly felt.

  ‘Your friend said you were both poor judges of character,’ she said softly before taking a deep breath … ‘Well, you certainly can’t be as bad as I was at your age.’ Sonya was silent, looking questioningly at Neha and so she continued, trying to keep her voice as dispassionate as possible. ‘I was eighteen when I got offered a place at Oxford. I’d worked all my life for that place because my father had told me when I was very small that I was going to join the Indian Foreign Service and Oxford was my best way in to that elite world. So, despite the fact that I was an only child and so young, they let me go when the Oxford offer came. It was my first time away from home and at first all quite exciting. But I must have got a bit lonely and was perhaps in search of a father figure of some sort. Despite a really nice boy called Simon pursuing me, I met this man …’ Neha paused and took a breath. ‘He was one of my tutors and I’m afraid I fell head over heels for him. Of course, I now recognize all the clichés: older man, well travelled, wordly wise, a great deal more smooth and sophisticated than me or any of the other men I’d ever met … you get the picture. Well, I ended up sleeping with him. It was entirely consensual, although friends later said that I s
imply hadn’t recognized the cleverness with which he’d manipulated me. It was all so sudden and I was so naïve, I had not even considered contraception …’ Neha paused again, her voice reducing to a near whisper. ‘When I told him I was pregnant, he not only shunned me, he disappeared from the college. I hung on for a while, young and stupid enough to hope he would have a change of heart and come back for me. For us. But he didn’t. I was seven months pregnant by the time college closed for the summer and a classmate and her mother took charge of me. They were so kind, taking me into their home and seeing me through those final few days of the pregnancy but, by September, I knew I did not have the heart – the courage – to go back to college. All I wanted was to be home in India, with my parents … to turn the hands of that clock back …’ Neha looked down at her cup of tea, which was now cold with a brown skin forming on the surface. She paused, reminding herself that Sonya deserved honesty from her. ‘It didn’t take much for me to be persuaded to give you up, Sonya,’ she finally said quietly. ‘The social worker said there were long waiting lists of potential adopters. I imagined those couples desperate for a baby and how much more they would be able to give you than I would, a girl just turned nineteen with her life in a total shambles …’ Neha stopped to take breath, painfully conscious of Sonya sitting as still as a statue across the table from her. Drawing her forefinger over the polished grain on the dining table surface, Neha continued, her voice low and trembling. ‘I … I gave you up, convinced that both you and I would go on to have better lives without each other than we could together … Now that makes no sense at all but it did then … it did then but …’ At this point, Neha finally started to cry, tears running freely down her face and onto the front of her sari. Disregarding them, she continued speaking, almost wanting to punish herself with the harshness of her own words. ‘Then … then I did an even more cowardly thing … Seeing that no one in India knew anything about my pregnancy, I decided I could keep it secret. Having weighed up all the options in the confused state I was in, it really felt like the best path to take at that point in time. I cut off all my ties with England and stopped writing to the people there – even those who had helped me – because I was terrified that something would leak out. Back in India, I told no one about you, or what I did to you: not my parents, not my best friend and, later, after I had got married, not even my husband …’