by Matt Dunn
‘Good,’ says Ash. ‘Because I’ve got a surprise for you.’
‘Not another one of your duff leads . . .’ I start to say, but it’s too late, because he’s already ended the call.
I wave goodbye to Terry, speech impossible due to the volume of the music thumping from inside the restaurant, then push through the front door, with its ‘Closed for a private party’ sign, and when I get inside, I’m pleasantly surprised to notice a painting of mine on the wall in the reception area with a ‘Sold’ sticker on the bottom of the frame. With a spring in my step, I walk on into the main restaurant area, before stopping to take in the atmosphere. It’s like a scene from a Bollywood movie: the men in either sharp suits or sporting traditional dress, and the women dressed in vividly coloured saris, whirling around to the kind of music I normally hear coming from Ash’s car stereo, although – and I didn’t think it was possible – somewhat louder. My mum and dad are already here, talking to Ash’s mum and dad in the corner, no doubt comparing notes as to whether there’s still any hope for me, and by the way Ash’s dad has what appears to be a consoling arm round my dad’s shoulder, I’m guessing that the answer is ‘No’.
‘Ben!’ Ash catches sight of me from where he and Priti are sitting, sipping brightly coloured drinks, and waves me over. ‘Glad you could come, mate!’ he shouts, a bit shell-shocked by the occasion, as I sit down next to him.
‘Your engagement party? I wouldn’t have missed it for the world,’ I say, leaning over and kissing Priti on the cheek. ‘And thanks for my surprise.’
‘What are you talking about?’
I nod towards the reception area. ‘Another sale.’
‘Oh that,’ says Ash. ‘That’s not your surprise.’
‘Well, what is?’
Ash grins. ‘Wait and see.’
As I try to work out what Ash is talking about, Priti holds her glass up and smiles at me. ‘Would you like a lassi?’
‘Well, that’s very kind of you to offer to fix me up with one of your Scottish friends,’ I say, ‘but I think I’ll probably have a drink first.’
‘No, Ben, I meant . . .’
‘I know what you meant. I was joking. Although, if there are any single women here . . .’
Ash smiles enigmatically. ‘There’s going to be one less very soon,’ he says, standing up and leading Priti towards the dance floor to a round of applause from the assembled guests.
As I watch them squeeze in between the other dancers, it strikes me that this is what an engagement party should be: a raucous celebration of the coming together of two people. And yet, as I look around the room, it’s quite clear to me that this is more than that. It’s the coming together of two families. To produce a whole new, bigger, better family.
And it’s a big celebration. Huge, even. Which is quite right, because I’ve come to realize that marriage is a huge thing, so it’s only appropriate that the party you have to announce it should be on the same scale. And while fundamentally it’s all about the two of them, it seems like here, everyone’s involved. As if each guest is a crucial part of the celebration. Even single, miserable me, if only to make Ash look better.
Which is why I know I’ve done the right thing, where Amy’s concerned. Because if this had been our – or rather, Amy’s – engagement party, it’d have been nothing like this, and even if no one else had turned up apart from me and her, I’d have still felt like just another guest, watching the proceedings from a distance. Whereas here, even though I’ve just arrived, I feel part of it. Involved. And happy to be here. And I’m pretty sure that I wouldn’t have been happy to be there.
I catch Ash’s eye as he spins past my table, holding tightly on to Priti, and he looks like he’s having the time of his life. And I’m happy for him. Really I am. Because if anything, his experience makes me see that there is someone out there for everyone. While finding them can be the tricky part, the looking’s actually not so bad. And although it might end up costing me a fortune in toiletries I don’t need, or condoms I’ll never use, I’m pretty sure I’ve got a good idea where to look.
As Ash and Priti fly past me again, Ash sweating profusely, and Priti looking like she fears for her life, I pick up one of the selection of whisky bottles on the table and pour myself a large glass, wondering whether this was what Ash meant when he said Indian weddings were usually quite spiritual. I pull out a chair, and sit down, sipping my drink while I watch my mum and dad trying their best to match the skilful dancers either side of them, my dad wincing whenever he tries to put his weight on his bad knee, which he’s aggravated in a vain attempt to beat my mum at computer tennis. After a few minutes, he catches sight of me and – leaving my mum to dance with Ash’s dad – limps over, evidently grateful for the break.
‘How’s it going, son?’ he puffs.
‘Not bad,’ I say, although ‘not good’ is perhaps a better answer.
‘No joy, then?’ he asks, looking over my shoulder.
‘Her name’s not Joy, Dad. It’s . . . Oh, that wasn’t what you meant, was it?’
My dad pulls out a chair and sits down next to me. ‘You haven’t even asked her?’
‘Not yet, Dad,’ I say, a little ashamed of myself, because the truth is, since our coffee together, I haven’t worked up the courage to even walk down the High Street, let alone go into Boots and actually speak to Seema.
‘Why ever not?’
‘Because I don’t even know if she’s interested in me. And I don’t want to die on my feet in front of her.’
‘Just remember,’ he says. ‘Faint heart never won fair lady. Or dark lady, come to think of it.’
‘Yes, well, I’m just trying to work out my approach. You know. How to tell her that I’m interested.’
He nudges me. ‘There’s something we teach in English, about getting the message across. And it’s one of the simplest, most effective maxims there is. Show, don’t tell.’
‘What’s that supposed to mean?’
He puts a hand on my arm. ‘It’s very simple, Ben. If you like this girl, don’t tell her. Show her. Actions speak louder than words, and all that. Which reminds me.’ He peers furtively around the room, then reaches into his jacket pocket and removes a piece of paper. ‘Here.’
‘That better be your will, given how red in the face you are,’ I say, looking suspiciously at the folded sheet of A4.
‘Don’t be cheeky,’ says my dad. ‘In fact, it’s something better.’
I take the piece of paper and unfold it. It’s another of his CVs. ‘Dad, I . . .’
‘Just read it.’
I shake my head slowly and glance disinterestedly through the details, smiling when I see the word ‘tattoos’ in the ‘hobbies’ section, and I’m just about to hand it back to him when I notice that this time, there’s a name at the top. Seema’s name.
‘What’s this?’
My dad smiles. ‘We promised to find you a bride. Looks like you beat us to it.’
‘If Ash’s mum and dad put you up to this, then I’m afraid Seema’s not going to . . .’
‘It wasn’t them,’ he says.
‘Well, in that case, it’s very nice of Ash, but . . .’
He grins. ‘Wrong again.’
‘Well, who?’
My dad sighs, then levers himself painfully to his feet. ‘I know you’re an artist now, Ben, but surely I don’t have to draw you a picture?’ he says, before making his way back to where my mum is.
I’m just about to follow him, when there’s a tap on my shoulder, and when I turn round, for a split second I don’t recognize her. Gone are the low-slung jeans and the leather jacket, to be replaced by a beautiful gold-edged sari, and while there’s no sign of the tattoo, the intricate henna designs on both her hands are quite beautiful. She’s breathing heavily, which I guess is from a turn around the dance floor rather than her excitement at seeing me. But one thing I’m sure of – she looks stunning.
Seema points at the whisky bottle on the table behind me
. ‘Drowning your sorrows?’
I pick it up and pretend to study the label. ‘Thinking about it.’
‘Well, pour me one as well, will you?’ she says, grabbing herself a glass from the centre of the table, then collapsing into the chair my dad’s just vacated. ‘I’m parched.’
‘What are you doing here?’ I say, pouring us both a healthy measure.
Seema clinks her glass against mine. ‘I couldn’t let my little brother get married without at least checking out his wife-to-be, could I?’
‘I suppose not,’ I say, smiling at the idea of Ash being anyone’s ‘little’ brother.
‘Besides . . .’
‘Besides?’
Seema winks at me. ‘I thought we had an arrangement?’
‘Oh.’ I get a sudden sinking feeling, assuming she’s referring to our discussion yesterday. ‘You’re talking about your parents.’
‘No,’ says Seema, pointing to the piece of paper I’ve forgotten I’m still holding. ‘But I have been talking to yours.’
I stare at her for a second, not quite believing what she’s just said, then look over at the other side of the room, where both my mum and dad and Ash’s parents are doing a very bad job of trying to appear as if they’re not watching us. ‘You know, I’ve never really liked these things,’ I say. ‘They always seem so . . . Dull. A last send-off for the condemned couple. But this?’
‘What?’
‘It seems to be all about having fun. Which is what it should be, surely?’
Seema smiles. ‘Maybe you’ll have your own one day.’
‘You’ve obviously never been to an English engagement party.’
‘No,’ says Seema, nodding towards the dance floor. ‘I meant maybe you’ll have one like this.’
I laugh. ‘I doubt it. I mean, I’d have to marry someone, you know, Indian.’
Seema shrugs, then downs her whisky in one, and stands up. ‘Well, you could start by asking me to dance,’ she says, holding her hand out to me.
Which is exactly what I do.
Acknowledgements
Thanks, as usual, to Patrick Walsh and the team at Conville & Walsh. To Kate Lyall Grant, Libby Vernon, Emma Harrow, and everyone at Simon & Schuster. To my mum, dad, and Tina, for your continuing love and support. To Loz, Tony, Chris, Linda, and Seem – with friends like you, these books almost write themselves. To Hugo, for helping me move into my new premises. To John Lennard, for his expertise with both a paintbrush and a tennis racquet. And to the Board – the best bunch of people I could ever hope to share a (virtual) office with.
Contents
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
Chapter 35
Acknowledgements
We hope you enjoyed reading this Simon & Schuster ebook.
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