by Matt Dunn
Ash smiles. ‘Maybe so. But it does have its value. I mean, there’s the “is she going to turn out like her mother?” angle, for one thing. Like it or not, it’s a pretty good indicator. And you can tell from the way they interact how good their family values are.’
I shake my head, then get up and walk round to where my mum and dad are sitting. ‘It’s her meeting my parents I’m more worried about,’ I say, putting an arm around each of their shoulders and giving them a squeeze.
As my mum and dad start to protest, Ash’s dad laughs. ‘Good point. But you know how the date itself can be like a job interview? Well, if it’s marriage you’re after, then think of it more as a company merger. The coming together of two families. And while it’s not crucial that they really get on, it’s important that each one knows what the other is bringing to the table.’
‘Like a holiday home,’ says my mum hopefully. ‘Or a boat.’
Chapter 11
When I meet Ash for a beer the following evening, he’s surprisingly upbeat, and while I assume that’s about my chances, it could just be because the big screen in the corner of the pub is showing tonight’s cup match, and his team are two–nil up.
‘So, that went well, then?’ I say, as Ash puts a beer on the table in front of me without taking his eyes from the game, and then sits down, nearly missing his chair. ‘Last night, I mean.’
‘Could have been worse. At least your mum and dad have got a good idea about how to go about it now.’
‘Yes, but there’s a long way to go in between knowing how to go about it, and actually finding me someone suitable. You know, who I might actually like.’
He grins. ‘Like my sister.’
‘Yeah. Sorry about that.’
‘S’all right. It was worth it just to see their faces. But tell me something, Ben, before you rush headlong into this. Why do you want to get married so badly?’
Ash takes a mouthful of lager. ‘I mean, want it badly. Not to do it badly.’
‘Well . . .’ I pick my own glass up and take a long drink, primarily to give myself some thinking time, but also because I don’t want to sound like a real saddo by admitting that one of the main reasons is simply because I’m lonely. ‘For a start, most of my other friends are already married. Now even the likes of you are doing it. And before me.’ And while I mean this half-jokingly, it is actually true. I do feel like I’m being left behind, because most of my friends are married. Some of them even have kids. And both of these factors are reasons for them to have less space in their lives for single old me, which would probably explain why I never see them any more. And I can’t ignore the fact that there’s a big part of me that’s worried that unless I do it too – and soon – I can see a lifetime of TV dinners for one stretching out before me.
‘So, you’re doing it because “it’s what people do”, are you?’
‘Well, partly . . .’
‘Baa.’
‘I’m sorry. Is that Indian for something?’
Ash turns round to face me, and shakes his head. ‘Ben, for the million-and-oneth time, there’s no “Indian” for anything. It could be Gujarati, or Urdu, or Hindi, but technically . . .’
I hold my hand up. ‘Okay, Ash. I get your point. So what was the stupid noise for?’
‘I was being a sheep. Or rather, you are.’
‘What are you talking about?’
‘You saying you want to get married because everyone else is. There’s got to be another reason.’
‘Sorry. Perhaps I wasn’t being clear. I want to get married because I want to do what, traditionally, everyone else does when they get to my age. Find a wife. Settle down. Start a family.’
‘And you have to get married to do all that?’ says Ash, turning his attention back to the football. ‘Apart from the “wife” part, obviously.’
‘Well, yes.’
‘Why?’
‘Because . . .’ I think hurriedly, trying to find an alternative answer to the ‘it’s what people do, isn’t it’ one. And fail. ‘Because that’s how you go about it.’
‘Not necessarily.’
‘What do you mean?’
‘Well, what does actually being married mean to you?’
I think for a second. ‘Well, it’s the commitment thing, isn’t it? Saying legally, and in front of people, that the two of you are entering into this institution where you’re going to make a go of it. Life together, that is.’
Ash winces at a particularly bad tackle. ‘And you can’t make a go of it without actually saying “I do” in front of a group of people, most of whom you don’t know?’
‘Look who’s talking.’
‘Point taken. But it’s more of the done thing with my lot. I mean, there’s no way I could get away with it without actually marrying Priti. But I’m just interested why you put so much store by the actual wedding thing.’
‘Well . . .’ I’m just about to try to answer, when Ash realizes he’s left his packet of crisps on the bar, and walks back over to get them.
‘All I’m saying,’ he says, sitting back down again while simultaneously pulling open his packet of McCoy’s, ‘is that for you, marriage isn’t the only way. Let’s face it, you can see it in a negative way too.’
‘How so?’
Ash shrugs. ‘Asking someone to marry you is a bit like saying “okay, we get on well together, and I suspect we might have a future together, so marry me, because that way legally you’re not allowed to leave me.” You want to demonstrate your commitment to someone, buy a house with them. Have a child with them. Agree to not look at other women. And you can do all that without actually forcing them to handcuff themselves to you.’
‘Ash, it’s not a handcuff. It’s a gesture. A statement. Because as a man, you’re saying that you’re giving up, well, all other women, to make a commitment to this one. And as a woman, you’re saying that “I believe you’re a good enough man to support me and have a family with.” So it’s a statement, in public, that the two of you really rate the person you’re with. And you want that to be recognized.’
‘So you do it for other people?’
‘No. Well yes. Partly.’
Ash sighs. ‘But shouldn’t you be doing it for yourself? Not to show everyone else you’re crazy about each other, or to say “hands off ”. Because that’s what a wedding ring is, isn’t it? A badge to say you’re unavailable, or taken.’
‘Tell me that’s not one of the reasons you’re so keen to settle down with Priti?’
‘I could, but it would be a lie,’ admits Ash. ‘But also because I’ve always known I’d get married, and had an idea of how that was going to happen, and so when Priti came along, well, I knew she was it almost before I’d even met her. But you, you’re saying “I want to get married, so find me a wife, but she must measure up to my check-list, which I’ve worked out from all the failed relationships I’ve had before.”’
‘So I’ve got standards. What’s wrong with that?’
‘Just that you’re going to be looking for something that you might not be able to find. Most people’s ideal woman is just that – an ideal. She doesn’t really exist. So if you keep holding out for her, you’re going to end up disappointed. Not to mention disappointing the poor girls that your mum and dad send your way.’
‘Are you telling me this isn’t going to work?’
‘No. But all I’m saying is, you can’t lead any of these girls up the garden path, Ben. Anyone you meet this way is going to expect you to want to marry them. Not just try them out for a while.’
‘Like I normally do?’
‘I didn’t say that.’
‘Well, I won’t. Not if I go into this with my eyes open.
I do want to be with someone for ever. And, sadly, the way things stand, this looks like the best way to ensure that happens.’
Ash rolls his eyes. ‘Fine. As long as you know what you’re doing.’
‘I do,’ I say, hoping that when I finally get to say those wor
ds, I actually, er, do.
‘Good,’ says Ash, moving his chair round to get a better view of the game. ‘Lecture over.’
We sip our beer in silence for a few moments, and then I can’t help asking, ‘So, what’s she like then?’
‘Who?’
‘You know full well who. Your sister.’
‘Meera?’ Ash grins. ‘She’s all right, I guess.’
‘And do you, you know, think she might be interested? In me.’
He shakes his head. ‘Nah.’
‘Why not?’ I ask, a little offended.
‘Well, the fact you’re missing two legs, for a start.’
‘Huh?’ I start to look under the table to check, then stop myself, hoping Ash hasn’t seen me.
‘The only thing she’s interested in is horses.’
‘Horses?’
He turns his gaze away from the football for a second. ‘She’s thirteen, Ben.’
‘Ah.’ I feel a sudden twinge of guilt. ‘No wonder your parents were shocked.’
‘Quite. Although not quite as shocked as when my mum found out she was having her in the first place.’
‘I must have sounded like some kind of pervert.’
‘Well, you would have, if not for the fact that . . . No. Never mind.’
I frown across the top of my glass at him. ‘What.’
‘I’ve got two.’
‘Two what?’
‘Sisters.’
‘That’s a relief. Unless the other one’s three, or something.’
‘Thirty-three, actually.’
‘Oh. Right. And what’s her name?’ I ask, when Ash doesn’t volunteer any further information.
‘Why?’ says Ash, suspiciously.
‘No reason.’ As he turns his attention back to the football, I realize that I should let it drop. But now, of course, I’m intrigued, and so can’t help but ask. ‘Is she single?’
Ash puts his glass down and folds his arms. ‘Are you seriously asking me if I can set you up with my sister?’
‘No. Of course not.’ I avoid Ash’s gaze, and stare at the screen in the corner, where a load of overpaid footballers seem to be spending more time kicking each other than the ball, then acting as if they’ve been shot when they get the slightest tap on the ankle themselves. ‘Unless she’s really good-looking, of course.’
‘Ha ha,’ he says sarcastically.
I mentally count to ten. ‘So, what is she like?’
‘Huh?’ says Ash, engrossed in some goalmouth action. ‘Who?’
‘You know. Your sister.’
Ash puts his beer down, and turns his chair round to face me. ‘Ben, for Christ’s sake . . .’
‘Sorry, mate. But I’m just trying to explore all my opportunities, you know. I mean, we’ve not known each other that long, but we get on well, don’t we? So do our parents. So given what your dad was talking about last night, that sounds like a pretty good basis to me to investigate things further. Unless . . .’
‘Unless what?’
‘Unless she looks like a female version of you, of course.’
‘Very funny,’ says Ash, pretending to scratch his nose while giving me the finger. ‘She’s quite striking looking, actually.’
‘Striking? As in “stunning”? Or just “striking”?’
‘What’s the difference?’
I think about this for a second. ‘She’s stunning,’ I say, nodding towards the bikini-clad model on the faded KP peanuts poster behind the bar. ‘Whereas you could describe the Elephant Man as striking.’
‘Ah.’ Ash laughs. ‘The first one, then.’
‘Oh. Right. Great. And, er, what does she do?’
‘Well, I’ll tell you what she doesn’t do. And that’s go out with my friends.’
‘Why not?’
Ash looks me up and down. ‘Where do you want me to start?’
‘Fair point. I suppose your parents have got someone in mind for her anyway?’
Ash sighs, realizing that he’s not going to get an uninterrupted chance to watch the match. ‘No, actually. She’s always been the rebel of the family.’
‘Is that why your mum and dad were so defensive last night?’
‘Don’t think badly about my parents, Ben. They’re not that strict. It’s just that they’ve got these expectations, that’s all. They’re not rules, just hopes. And every parent hopes their child will do the best for themselves, and so anything they can do to help out . . .’ Ash stops talking, as if he’s considering how much information to share. ‘My sister just doesn’t believe in doing things the traditional way, that’s all. And I might not either, if Priti and I didn’t get along so well. Trust me, it’s not some iron-rule society where people are forced to do things against their will. My mum and dad just worry about her, that’s all.’
‘She sounds like she can look after herself.’
Ash nods. ‘She can. And that’s part of the problem. They still see her as their little girl. So it’s a shock to them that she isn’t any more.’
‘So,’ I swallow hard, ‘you wouldn’t mind if I asked her out?’
‘Mind?’ Ash lets out a short laugh, which I don’t quite know how to interpret. ‘Be my guest. Although I wouldn’t tell her about this find-me-a-bride mission that you’re embarking on.’
‘Why not?’
Ash makes a face. ‘She doesn’t really believe in marriage.’
‘Why ever not?’
‘Because she’s already been married. And it didn’t work out.’
‘Because of the, you know, arrangement thing?’
Ash laughs. ‘Nah. Because her husband turned out to be gay.’
‘What?’
He nods. ‘Yup. And his parents were just trying to cover it all up, by getting him married off. Trouble was, she was a little too clever for them.’
‘How did she find out?’
‘Well, apart from anything else, the not sleeping together was getting to be a problem. But it’s put her off for life.’
‘What – marriage? Men? Or marrying gay men?’
Ash grins. ‘All three. Besides, she’d run a mile if my parents even gave her the slightest hint that she was being set up again.’
‘Ah. Okay. Forget I asked.’
‘I will,’ says Ash, turning back to the match.
I stare at the back of his head for a few moments, and then can’t help myself. ‘And why haven’t I met her before?’
Ash shrugs. ‘She’s only just moved back down from London. Something about there being better opportunities in her line of work down here, I think she said.’
‘So, come on. What does she do? For a living, I mean.’
Ash looks at me for a moment, then sighs loudly. ‘Okay. She sells drugs.’
‘Sells drugs?’
‘Yes,’ says Ash. ‘Which my parents weren’t best pleased about, because they’d always wanted her to be a doctor, which kind of started off her whole rebellious streak. They were really happy when she agreed to give the arranged marriage thing a go, but given what happened . . . Well, let’s just say that relations have been a little bit cooler between them since then.’
‘Understandably. Hence the reason your folks were so sensitive when I mentioned her.’
Ash nods. ‘Or they might just have assumed you actually meant Meera. No, I think they’re just letting her make her own way. And just hoping that whoever she ends up with won’t be too embarrassing for the family.’
‘Okay. Fair enough. I’ll steer clear then.’
‘Thanks.’
‘Don’t mention it.’ I shake my head. ‘I still can’t believe your sister’s a drug dealer.’
‘Yes.’ Ash grins. ‘Or rather, a “pharmacist”, to give it its proper title.’
‘A pharmacist?’ I say, trying to ignore the sudden, uneasy feeling in my stomach. ‘And what did you say her name was?’
‘I didn’t,’ says Ash. ‘But it’s Seema.’
Bollocks. Just my luck. Although thinking abo
ut it, the Seema I ‘met’ wasn’t called Patel. It’s the slimmest of lifelines, but one I’m determined to hang on to with both hands. ‘So, when you say she’s a pharmacist, is this in a shop?’
Ash sighs. ‘Boots,’ he says, without turning round to look at me.
‘Pardon?’
‘You’ll find Seema in Boots.’
‘What sort?’ I ask, hoping he’s describing Seema’s preferred footwear, rather than her place of work. ‘Football? Wellington? Thigh-high leather ones?’
‘Ben, please, this is my sister we’re talking about. Boots the chemists, obviously.’
‘Oh. Right,’ I say, the lifeline slipping from my fingers. ‘So that would be the Boots on the High Street, or the one in the shopping centre?’
‘The High Street,’ says Ash, reaching into his pocket and removing his mobile phone, then flicking through to the ‘camera’ option. ‘This is her,’ he says, handing it over to me.
I take the phone and peer nervously at the screen, waiting for the photo to load, and when it does, while it’s a face that for some reason looks familiar, at least it’s not from the other day. Although Ash was right – she certainly is stunning. ‘This is your sister?’
‘What’s wrong with her?’ says Ash defensively.
‘Nothing at all. In fact, I meant to say “this is your sister?”. She’s gorgeous.’
‘Bugger off.’
I stare at the photo again in disbelief. ‘But, Ash . . .’
‘What?’
‘Why is she topless?’
‘Pardon? Oh, sorry.’ Ash takes the phone and presses a couple of buttons before handing it back to me. ‘That’s Halle Berry. She’s my new screensaver. This is Seema.’
‘Thanks,’ I say, taking the phone back, and then my stomach does a little flip. It’s another face I recognize, although not, sadly, from the movies. ‘And you’re sure she’s your sister?’
Ash gives me a look that’s in keeping with the dumbness of the question I’ve just asked. ‘Yes. She got the looks in the family. Unfortunately.’
‘And the brains, judging by what she does for a living.’
‘Yes, well, if she’s got any brains, then she’ll keep away from you,’ he says, turning back towards the television.